


Two-Point Perspective

by FestiveFerret



Series: Two-Point Perspective [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Artist Steve Rogers, Attempted Sexual Assault, Celestial Navigation Remix, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake Dating, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Iron Man 1, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Omega Steve Rogers, Pining, Possessive Tony Stark, Poverty, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Romance, Romantic Steve Rogers, Secret Identity, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Stress About Money, bed sharing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 109,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Dear omega,Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha#95847872has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.Sincerely,National Omega Services
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Two-Point Perspective [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009920
Comments: 1256
Kudos: 3328





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Celestial Navigation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720710) by [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/pseuds/sabrecmc). 



> WELL! This has been in the works since, like, October, and I'm super duper excited (and a tiny bit terrified) to share it. This is a remix of sabre's incomparable Celestial Navigation, which swaps things around so Tony is the Tony from IM1, and Steve is a broke, struggling omega who ends up being forced to bond with Tony. You don't have to have read CN to understand this, though some of the references may go over your head. I ~~stole~~ borrowed a fuckton straight from CN as this is a very definite remix and not just inspired by, so everything cool in here is probably from her. Thank you, sabre, for CN and all it has given the fandom.
> 
> Thank you to allcap for holding my hand and cheerreading and helping me solve problems and being so helpful while I wrote/write this!!
> 
> Thank you to ashes0909 always for beta and being my whole world.
> 
> And thank you to arukou-arukou for giving me a title when I was title-less.
> 
> This is a big boy with long chapters (channeling sabre lol), but I'm hoping I can post every Saturday until it's done! 
> 
> Hope this brings you some pleasure or escapism during these difficult times! Love you all! <3

_You have been selected._

Steve stared at the harsh black words on the slightly-too-yellow-to-be-called-white page he held clutched in his hands. Reading it ten times hadn't made it make anymore sense at all.

_You have been selected._

The subway car rattled and shook, knocking his shoulder against the tall beta beside him and earning him a reproachful look. He muttered an apology, folding the paper up and shoving it back in his bag so he could hold the metal bar between the seats to steady himself. It was too warm. Someone else's hand had just been there, leaving an invisible hand print that made him want to wipe his palm on his jeans. 

_Selected._

The word stood out, cold and empty, somehow crueler than "chosen" or "wanted." He'd been selected. By an alpha. He'd read the letter enough times now that he almost knew it off by heart.

_Dear Omega,_

_Congratulations! You have been selected._

That was where he always got stuck. Maybe it was the exclamation mark that stung the most, making his mental voice twist upwards in a mockery of cheery excitement. _Congratulations!_ That meant he should be happy, right? Happy that some alpha with a boner and nowhere to shove it had flipped through an endless list of lost, desperate, begging omegas and had settled on him - for some ungodly reason. He should be happy that, despite all of his efforts, he had managed to appeal to someone, someone who was so alone, so unappealing, that they had to resort to the registry to find a mate. Not that Steve really had a leg to stand on there.

Lust wasn't on most alpha's minds when they met him. At first glance, maybe, there might be some interest. He was small, thin, angular, maybe seemed easy to handle or small enough to toss around, at first. But when anyone got close, small turned into short, thin turned into scrawny, and angular turned into jagged. Even if that wasn't enough to turn even the most open-minded alpha off, he wore a perpetual scowl that Bucky assured him yelled, "fuck off" loudly enough that no one wanted to test what would happen if they didn't. He'd been passed over - first for kickball teams in the schoolyard, then for dates as unsure teens, adjusting to new expectations, then for bonding, as pairs matched or were matched and marched off into their new adult lives. 

Then he was passed over for jobs, apartments, scholarships, healthcare, and, finally, perhaps the biggest blow, the army. 

This selection was the one - _one_ \- time he was counting on his innate and unshakable ability to be passed over, and it had failed him. His name had been plucked handily out of the fishbowl of fate, like Primerose fucking Everdeen being reaped - and he had no sibling to get him out of this one. 

_Congratulations! You have been selected._

The subway screeched to a halt with an unholy grind of brakes on time-smoothed metal and Steve braced his hand against the pole to keep from rocking into the beta beside him again. The doors chimed, then opened and people filed on. They were mostly betas, a few alphas mixed in, sharp, spicy scent tingling the back of Steve's nose, and a few bonded omegas. He kept his chin down but couldn't help flicking his eyes over each person that stepped on. 

They said you never dreamed new faces, only ones you'd seen before, and Steve had to assume he couldn't draw new faces either. They were all amalgamations of faces he'd seen before, puzzle-pieced together into something pretending to be new, unique. So he figured he'd fill up his catalog as much as he could, give his dreams, and therefore his sketching pencil, as much fodder as possible. He watched people.

His ability to be passed over had always aided him here, too, allowing him the freedom to openly study those around him without getting strange looks or accidentally appearing challenging. 

A slim omega with a green, felt hat sat across from him, clutching her purse in her lap. Her alpha stood nearby, leaned against the pole to use both hands to look down at his phone, and she kept sliding her eyes up to him and pursing her lips like she was finishing an argument they'd started earlier in her head - maybe more to her liking this time.

Steve traced the curve of her eyebrow with his eyes, fingers twitching almost imperceptibly in his lap as he imagined the way he would capture it on the page. She had a unique shape to her face, long but not unpleasant, her mouth small and tight and her eyes large and expressive. She was heavily made-up in a way that was clearly designed to look completely natural, three layers of primer and foundation smudging away the natural freckles that peeked up over the neckline of her blouse. Heavy mascara made her eyes look even larger, while pink blush washed back in the healthy glow the foundation had covered up. 

_Was she from the registry?_ Steve couldn't help but wonder. Maybe not. Maybe they'd met at a party, a few years ago, her alpha spotting her from across the room as little hearts burst like bubbles above his head. Her friends would have giggled, flicking looks of half-nervousness and half-jealousy at each other when he finally got the courage to ask her to dance. Maybe they fell in love, first. Maybe they even had to convince their parents to let them bond - her dowry too small to be worth much of anything, his parents having to rewrite the path they'd sketched out for him when he was still in diapers.

Maybe.

More likely, they'd been pushed together. Their parents had business connections or the two families wanted an alliance and they were close enough in age. That was how the story went these days, for the most part. People didn't really talk about what happened when you had no parents to set you up. People didn't really talk about the ones who weren't worth being set up with. 

That was, of course, until they got a letter from the damn registry informing them that after two years of relative peace and the barely scraped off edges of prosperity, they had been chosen after all. Selected. 

_Congratulations!_

Steve pulled his eyes away from the bonded couple to fall back down to the scrap of yellow-white that stuck out of his bag. He'd had just enough time to relax, to get used to his government benefits, to find a job he liked that would take an unbonded omega and an apartment where he didn't have to brace a dresser against the door and borrow Bucky's baseball bat when his heat hit - feeble though it was. Enough time to take a breath - a real deep one, the kind he didn't get too many of - and settle in, thinking he was fine, off the hook, that a balance had been struck.

Signing up for the registry was a formality, the Omega Services Rep had assured him, in calming, gentle tones. Only two percent of omegas in the registry were selected for bonding and less than half a percent of those came from those on Services. But the government didn't pay out to omegas who weren't putting in the bare minimum of effort towards getting off the dole. Which, apparently, meant putting in the bare minimum of getting knotted. So you had to sign up, put your name and face (and ass, in the less-than-literal sense, though a little closer to literal than Steve would have liked) out there, with a please-fuck-me smile and a not-too-desperate bio, and maybe, someday, a white knight alpha with broad shoulders and a rose clenched between his teeth would flick past your profile and decide you were the one.

At least, that's what the registry commercials seemed to think would happen.

In actuality, alphas barely this side of financially-stable enough to qualify would trawl their way through the list, pick an omega to get their knot wet, then dump them when they got boring or cost too much money. And sure, once you were claimed, you could stay on Services if your alpha refused to support you, some omegas had even sued for alimony and won it, but for Steve, that was hardly the point. He'd made it this long without selling his body, and he didn't intend to start now.

He wanted an alpha, he did. But he wanted to bond for love. Deep down in his heart, in the place that hadn't had its edges worn down to unreadable by time, and poverty, and loss, and illness, down there was a tiny, glowing hope that even though he was scrawny and sick and scowling and broke and useless and unwantable, some alpha out there might just find it in them to love him. 

But now none of that mattered because he'd been _selected._

_Dear omega,_

_Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha_ **_#95847872_ ** _has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package._

_If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter._

_Sincerely,_ _  
_ _National Omega Services_

He didn't even know his new alpha's name. He'd learn it at the ceremony, he supposed, unless the alpha called him before then to discuss "other arrangements." The alpha had all of his info, at this point. Once he was selected, the app would have given him everything about Steve, right down to when his last heat was. Most omegas were bonded before their first. Steve had had eight - alone.

He grimaced down at the corner of the letter. Why on earth would anyone choose him? _Why?_ It was like they'd purposefully gone out of their way to ruin things for him. Why on earth else would they do this? He wasn't attractive, he wasn't young, he had no connections, and he was so in and out of illness that it was entirely possible taking his first knot would kill him anyway. He had nothing to offer, and yet this - this _person,_ Alpha _#95847872_ was taking it from him anyway. 

Steve pulled the letter out again, risking smashing into the annoyed beta next time the subway slowed, and unfolded it, pressing the creases flat. Yup. It still said exactly the same thing. No one had scribbled a name or a phone number anywhere on the sheet that he hadn't noticed before, and when he ran his finger down through the envelope, it really was empty. 

So that was all he had. A number and a promise that his life as he knew it was about to be over, and he had no control over which way he crashed and burned. That was it. They might - it suddenly occurred to him with a pang straight to the centre of his chest - they might not even let him see Bucky anymore, if he ever had the chance again. Following him into the army had been the perfect plan to keep them together, right up until the medical exam, and now there was no telling when Buck would be stateside again. And then… to know he was home but Steve wasn't _allowed_ to see him...

The announcer called out Steve's station and he hastily shoved the letter back in its envelope and used the metal pole to lurch up to his feet. He passed the omega and her phone-obsessed alpha as he made his way to the doors and her eyes cut to him. But they didn't linger, just passed over him on their way somewhere else. So he still had his super power. It just hadn't worked on Alpha #95847872. 

It was another four block walk to the omega library where Steve worked, and he used the time to try and clear his head. It was three weeks until the group bonding ceremony, which meant he needed to start getting his things in order. He didn't know if he'd be allowed to bring his stuff, if his alpha would let him have all his books or keep his job. Everything in his life was up in the air, from where he could go to what he could wear to how often he was expected to go head down-ass up and present like a good, little omega.

Connie was outside the library, pinning up a banner, when Steve shuffled up to the little, red brick and tinted glass building. "Hey, Steve."

"Good morning, Connie." Steve tried to keep the letter out of his voice. He didn't want his bad news to ruin everyone else's day. But he couldn't stop the rush of melancholy that flooded through him at Connie's returning smile. What if he never saw her again? What if his new alpha whisked him away from all his friends and family to hide him away as some ugly trophy on a shelf? Could he even live like that? With someone he didn't care for? And that was the best possible outcome, really. Who knew what an alpha would want with someone like him? Maybe there was something even worse than the stories Steve had heard about omegas taken off the registry. 

Steve wiped both palms on his jeans and slipped through the door into the library. Brooklyn West Omega Library was one of six in New York City, a state-sponsored endeavour during the Right to Read campaign in the 1970s. The government had mostly forgotten about the little book islands, but for the omegas in the community, they were still priceless, and donation drives each spring helped make up for where the sparse grants fell short. But even now, the library was allowed to have five full-time employees, and three college-age interns on payroll at any given time, and Steve was lucky enough to get to be one of those employees. 

There weren't many jobs an unbonded omega was allowed to do, especially one without any parents to find something for him, and Steve had tried them all. But the library was perfect.

Steve stepped inside and breathed in. So perfect. 

Books had always been there for Steve. When he was six and he could only make it to about half his classes, with the way his chest went tight and rigid and his breath wouldn't pull all the way in, books were there, in great stacks that his mother brought home from the library, to fill in the gaps. When he was ten and his mother got sick for the first time and he had to spend hours curled in a hospital chair while she got her treatment, books painted another, better world, where he didn't have to be afraid. When he was fourteen and finally presented, later than all his classmates in a grade where he was already behind the rest of his age, books gave him a place to hide from the new way the world treated him, with prying, curious eyes and too-close, deep breaths in. By then, his mother was too far gone to understand that Steve's last hold-out hope for having some semblance of a life had failed him. He'd been hit with that rush of chili-pepper hot hormones, left shaking and gasping in bed for two days as his body rushed through his mock-heat and left no question that he was an omega. Doors that had been half-open before slammed all the way shut then, and four months later, his mother had died.

Steve walked down his favourite aisle, running his fingers along the spines of the books. The long stretch of shelves, tottering uncertainly on musty carpet held the collection of romance novels until halfway down where it became reference books. Steve loved both sets, maybe equally. The reference books had saved a mind that was trapped in a body that made it hard to learn with the other children, and the romances had saved a heart that was on the verge of giving up on the world.

There was also, at the bottom left, low enough that the flood two years ago had damaged a few of the pages, a small collection of art books, and _oh_ how Steve loved those. He was pretty sure his were the only hands that had cracked the spines in many years, but just touching the letters of the titles was enough to get his heart racing. It was _incredible_ what people could make with nothing more than some paint or marble or a pencil and a creative mind. 

Back when Steve had still believed he might have been an alpha, he was sure he'd be a painter. He'd sketched out the rough outlines of his mother's fruit bowl with a bit of pencil on the back of a homework assignment and dreamed of selling a painting to someone rich and magnanimous who would be so pleased he'd commission enough more that Steve would never go wanting. And perhaps the other end of the shelf came into play too, when his fantasy added in that the wealthy benefactor's young son was an unbonded alpha who fell deeply, madly in love with Steve and they lived happily ever after.

Those fantasies were going up in smoke now, though. There was a chance his alpha might let him paint, if they could afford it, or at least draw. It was a common enough pastime for omegas, but to sell his paintings? No way. And to be carried off by a handsome, doting alpha on a white horse? No fucking way. Instead he was being married off in a group ceremony at city hall to a person he didn't even know the name of and that was that.

The hushed quiet of the library and the musty scent of the books calmed him, though, and he was able to fall into the rhythm of work, reshelving, indexing, and signing returns back in. The library was old-fashioned in terms of technology, several decades behind the community shared library - i.e. the alphas, betas, and bonded omegas only library - down the block, but they got by. Everything was a little slower, a little harder, but the people who came there - omegas, widows, children and teens with nowhere else to go, and betas who preferred a lowkey environment - understood and were willing to take their time in exchange for having a space just for them.

Most of the books were second-hand, donated by omegas when they bonded or their kids outgrew them. Steve knew which ones needed to be handled carefully, pages inclined to slip right out and which ones would need a new layer of tape on the spine when they were returned.

On his break, Steve settled on a stool in the back room, perched awkwardly between a stack of donated books and a large tube filled with various unused posters. He took a cheese sandwich and a carrot out of his bag and checked his phone while he chewed them slowly, taking his time with the only calories he'd get until late that evening.

_200 Park Avenue. 6pm. Bring ID._

Steve stared at the text. It was from a new number, one he'd never seen before and with no history in his contacts. There was no introduction, no explanation just - this. 

It had to be his new alpha, right? Who else would text him with such utter confidence in their right to boss him around? Who else could possibly have his number? He didn't hand it out very much. So this was his first interaction with the person that would run his entire life from then on. He fiddled with his phone, trying to decide what to type back. A good omega would just say "yes, alpha," and move on, but Steve couldn't get over the weirdness of it all.

_Do you have a name?_ he finally typed out, a frisson of fear jolting through his stomach as soon as he hit send. That was too far, surely? The first thing he'd said to his alpha and it was rude. He sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. 

_I do._ came the alpha's reply, only a few seconds later. 

That was dismissive… right? His alpha was angry with him for mouthing off. It had to be that. He was pretty sure that step one in Mrs. Marjorie's Book of Omega Manners wasn't "piss off your alpha before you've even met them," but it was a thread now, sticking up in a sharp little point, and Steve had to pull it.

_Can I have it?_ He stood there, heart in his throat, clutching his phone, while he waited for a reply.

_You can have half of it, since by New York law, you're about to own half my stuff anyway._ _  
_ _Tony._

Steve snorted. _If by "own" you mean I might get it if you die, sure. Thanks for the half-name, though. I guess you already know mine._

Tony. 

_I already know everything about you._

Well. That was ominous. 

_You want me to come to that address tonight at 6pm?_ Steve asked,

_Yes._

_Do I need to bring anything?_ A hot flush of prickly anxiety crawled up Steve's spine until he was verging on full-on panic. He had mentally given himself until the group bonding date to adjust to this whole thing, but now, it seemed, his alpha wanted to meet him right away. Tonight.

_… Yes. I said bring ID._

Steve huffed with frustration. _Anything else?_

_Like what?_

_I don't know! Whatever one might bring to something like this. I've never been selected before._

_Well, I've never selected anyone before. Are you always this mouthy?_

_Are you always this demanding?_

Steve stared in horror at his phone, his sandwich completely forgotten. How could he talk to his alpha like that? Maybe Buck was right and being twenty-two and unbonded meant Steve had forgotten all the manners he'd been taught in school. _Yes, alpha, yes, alpha, yes, alpha,_ he repeated to himself. That was all he had to say. When his phone buzzed in his hand, he squeezed his fingers around it and closed his eyes. Why, why, _why?_ This wasn't texting with Bucky, this was serious. He got caught up. He always got caught up.

He forced himself to peel his eyes open and look down at his phone.

_Lol. Yeah. I'm assured that it's endearing in person,_ Tony had sent back.

_Sorry._ Steve typed out, pressing each letter with a little too much force. _I was rude._

_Feel free to be rude, but don't be late. I have a meeting right after._

Steve's fingers hovered over the "y" key. _Yes, alpha._ It shouldn't be that hard to say. It didn't matter that he'd been imagining saying it for the first time to the love of his life and not some stranger he had nothing but half a name for and a series of rather shocking texts. He'd never say it to anyone else again - unless his alpha turned out to be seventy years old and Steve got another kick at the can in just a short while. He didn't sound old, though. So he should just say it now, show that he knew his place, even though he was too old and too rough to be worth taking. He should be grateful, really, that anyone managed to want him at all, even if he still didn't know why.

_I won't._ He managed instead, followed by, _Thank you._ Though he wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking him for. Not calling him an insolent brat and threatening to wash his mouth out with soap, he supposed. Or maybe to take his phone away. Maybe he was going to take his phone away, anyway. All the wind dropped out of Steve's sails on one thick gust and he crumpled on his stool, eyes hot and stinging. He'd had it all figured out. He was _so sure_ he had it all figured out. He had a place to live, a job, he was paying his own rent and buying his own food. All he'd needed was enough extra support to buy his hideously overpriced inhalers and his heart medication, and he was okay. But the trade-off…

"Steve?"

Steve startled up from where he'd curled over his phone and sucked in a sharp breath, blinking wildly to clear the pricks of hot tears from the corners of his eyes. "Yes?" 

"Sorry, I just -" Connie bit her lip. "The computer system went down again and no one can remember how to reset it."

Steve sniffed again, determined not to cry, and straightened up on the stool. "Alright. I'll be right there."

"Thanks." Connie slipped out again. 

Steve took a moment to sit with his eyes closed and breath deeply, then slid off his stool and went out to the main floor. The computer system crashed all the time, but no matter how many times Steve wrote out the instructions for resetting it, it always seemed to go wrong.

Connie was copying signouts into the old binder when Steve shuffled behind the desk next to her. He shot what he hoped was a pleasant smile to the visitor then set to work. Most of his approach to the dusty, old desktop was just patience, accepting that each click needed a full minute to register when it got overwhelmed. He worked his way through closing the program and restarting the computer, then starting it up again and restoring all the right settings. It took almost ten minutes, but when it was done, he touched Connie gently on the back. "All done."

"Thanks, Steve!"

Steve let her get back to signing out books and escaped to the back shelves. The rest of the day was basically a write-off. Every book he shelved seemed to find a way to remind him that he was marching to his doom that night. Every smile from every visitor seemed laced with pity that made his skin crawl. 

At four, he packed up his things and said goodnight to the team, trying to sound as normal as possible. He knew, logically, that it would be his last shift, but he held out hope that maybe when Tony met him that night, he'd change his mind and cancel the bonding. He didn't even know if you could cancel bondings, but if the alpha initiated it, why not? It was probably the kind of thing that happened all the time, just no one ever talked about it.

Steve went home and took a shower. He carefully combed his hair away from his face, plucked the edges of his unruly eyebrows and dabbed on a little makeup to try and give his cheeks a hint of colour and his eyes some depth. He stepped back and looked in the mirror.

He couldn't see an omega anyone would want. He tried to force the corners of his lips into a welcoming smile, but it just looked like a grimace. Besides, he didn't _want_ Tony to want him. Maybe there had been something in his picture, in the lighting, that made Tony think he was making a good choice, but once he saw him in person, he'd march Steve right back out of his house and leave him to live his life. Leave him to find an alpha who actually loved him for him, instead of a mail-order knot.

Steve pulled on his nicest slacks, winching in the too-loose waist with his only belt. He put on two undershirts to try and hide the way his ribs stuck out and his shoulders pinched in, then layered on a light blue button-down. His ma had always said blue brought out his eyes. He didn't have a jacket that wasn't filled with holes and leaking down, so he went without, even knowing he'd be freezing on the subway right into the city. 

200 Park Avenue was SI Tower, home to the largest tech company in the world. It loomed up over Grand Central Station, which at least meant it was easy to get to. It was an odd place to meet, though. There were no living quarters in the massive office building, which meant the mysterious Tony had to work there. But that also meant that other people would be there, which was a small comfort. If Tony was abusing the system to get unbonded omegas delivered to his door so he could force them to do whatever he wanted, it would be odd to invite him to a busy office building to have his wicked way. 

Then again, maybe at six in the evening, most people would have gone home. Steve shoved his hand in his pocket and found the pepper spray keychain attached to his apartment key. He marched out of the station and down the street to the front lobby of SI Tower. He'd learned when he turned twenty and still wasn't bonded that the best way to navigate the city as an unmatched omega was to walk like you were an alpha without a care in the world. He rarely got bothered, either because his fake confidence helped him pass as something he wasn't, or because he was so small and sickly looking, that all he inspired in people was disgust or pity.

The front lobby of the tower was enormous, a great arching ceiling curving over his head like he was an ant under a canoe. A huge, abstract painting hung behind the reception desk and Steve was impressed to see a piece by Lainey Archer, a relatively unknown but brilliant omega artist. Steve was very fond of her work, but he'd only seen this piece in books, never in person. He stopped for a moment, staring, and the lone receptionist cleared her throat. 

Steve startled and checked the time on his phone. 5:55PM. Not late. He approached the desk.

"Good evening," the receptionist said politely, managing not to curl her lip at Steve's shabby appearance. "How can I help you?"

Steve suddenly realized that he didn't really have much to go on. What should he say? "I have an appointment tonight," he tried. _With Tony_ sounded so weirdly vague, and he shouldn't be calling his new alpha by his first name like that anyway. But he didn't _know_ his last name. "I'm Steve Rogers?" He hovered, hoping he wouldn't have to add, _From the registry,_ and sure enough, the beta's eyebrows rose and she dropped his eyes down to her computer screen for a moment.

"Oh, yes. Of course. Mr. Rogers. Do you have ID with you?"

Steve dug around in his pockets. He had his wallet with his ID card as well as the selection letter, just in case. But he handed his card over and she glanced at it for a moment then handed it back. 

"Thank you. If you could take a seat, someone will be right with you." She gestured behind him, and Steve found a tasteful arc of sleek, black leather chairs gathered around a miraculously fingerprint-free glass table. A screen on the wall played footage of SI's most recent product launches. 

Steve sat down, clutching his phone between his hands. He focused on keeping his leg from jiggling up and down. Every anxiety he'd ever had about alphas flooded to the surface again. What if Tony hated him? What if Tony liked him _too much?_ What if Tony kept him away from his friends, hit him, yelled at him? What if he couldn't take his knot and Tony dumped him back on the street with nothing? 

The clock clicked over to 5:59 and Steve startled up to the click of stiletto heels on the sleek tile floor. A tall woman in a white suit with her bright orange hair pulled back into a perfectly sleek ponytail was making her way across the lobby towards him. "Mr. Rogers?"

Steve jerked to his feet. "Yes. That's me." He held out his hand and she took it for a moment, squeezed lightly then released it. She was an alpha, but her eyes didn't rake down over Steve like most alpha's did. 

"I'm Virginia Potts. Mr. Stark's personal assistant. He asked me to show you up."

Steve froze, every frail muscle in his body seizing with sudden fear. Stark. Tony _Stark._ It had never occurred to him that his new alpha could possibly be the _owner of Stark Industries._ It made no sense. No sense at all. Why wouldn't Tony Stark be able to find an omega himself. What use did he have for the registry? And even more so, for someone like Steve?

"E-excuse me?" he managed to stutter out.

Miss Potts' head tilted to the side, but she gave nothing else away in her cool, collected expression. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Sorry." Steve shoved his phone in his back pocket and nodded. "I'm just a little nervous."

"It's okay," she offered kindly. "Nothing to worry about. I know Tony can come off a little… brash at first. But he's a wonderful boss and friend. You'll be fine."

Steve nodded again and tried to clear his throat but it stayed rough and scratchy. Miss Potts led the way to an elevator and swiped the keycard clipped to her belt. The doors closed and the elevator hummed to life, bringing them up ever higher. 

"The top three floors are Mr. Stark's private floors," she explained. "You'll be given a keycard, but you'll also have additional access via bioscan. JARVIS will help you learn which floors you're allowed on and which you're not. You'll also have to sign your visitors in and out." She shot him a look and Steve tried not to look as terrified as he felt. "He has to worry about intellectual property security, I'm sure you understand."

Steve didn't understand anything that was happening. It seemed impossible that someone as rich, handsome, and well-connected as Tony Stark would use the registry for anything other than under-the-table omega abuse, but his assistant was talking as if he would be staying long-term. Then again, maybe Tony would want him for a week, or even a month, just long enough for his services to expire, then he'd dump him back on the street, used up and utterly fucked. He glanced at her while she was looking away. She looked kind enough, smile lines creasing the corners of her eyes, but maybe she didn't care. Maybe he was one in a long line of omegas from the registry she'd introduced then put out with the trash the next morning. 

Steve chewed his bottom lip, stomach twisting with acid. He couldn't take a knotting tonight, he just couldn't. He wasn't ready. He didn't know what to expect or what he should do or say or -

"Mr. Rogers?" Miss Potts was standing in the now open elevator doors, hand out to keep them from closing again. Steve stumbled out after her.

His hands were sweating and the bile in his empty stomach kept threatening the back of his throat. Miss Potts led him confidently through an extravagantly beautiful great room, past an enormous kitchen, and to a set of back stairs that wound down to an opaque glass door. She swiped her card and pushed the door open without knocking, Steve trotting to keep up with her. 

"Tony!" she shouted, startling him. "Your omega is here! Please tell me you're wearing pants."

"Pep!" came a voice from underneath a machine that while technically a car didn't look like any car Steve had ever been close enough to touch before. It was all sleek curves and dark glass. There was a scrape then the rumble of wheels and Tony rolled out from under the car on a dolly. He had green tinted goggles on, a Black Sabbath t-shirt filled with holes, and ratty jeans. He ignored Steve entirely, reaching his hand out for Pepper who helped him to his feet. "Pep, I think it's the air filter causing the problem."

"I'm very happy for you, Tony. Steven is here."

Tony peered around Miss Potts, peeling his goggles off to stare at him. "Huh." His gaze cut up and down Steve like an x-ray and Steve resisted the urge to squirm under his attention. If he wasn't what Tony wanted, maybe he'd just let him go. He didn't care about his services anymore, he just wanted to leave. "Okay."

"Tony," Miss Potts chastised. She turned around and walked back over to Steve, patting him lightly on the shoulder as she made her way to the door. "Don't let him frighten you, Steven, he's a teddy bear." She disappeared through the door which closed with the _snick_ of an electric lock engaging. He was stuck in here with Tony. Alone.

Tony had turned away from him though, fiddling with something on his massive desk. Steve stood with his hands twisted together behind his back, waiting to be spoken to. There was a loud clang and Tony swore softly. Steve had the distinct feeling he'd been forgotten, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

But then Tony rounded on him suddenly, spinning around and locking his electric gaze to Steve's. "Steven Grant Rogers. Born Brooklyn, July fourth, nineteen eighty-six."

"Yes, A-" Steve stuttered around the word, knowing he should say _Alpha,_ but still unable to get the word through his lips. "Yes, sir," he settled on.

"So, Steven, what's your favourite food?"

"Pardon?"

"Your favourite food."

Steve opened and closed his mouth, at a loss.

"You do eat food, don't you?"

"Occasionally," he bit back before he could stop himself. "Maybe, um, cake?"

"Cake?"

"It's - yeah, it's special, you know. I don't - um -" Steve shuffled in the face of Tony's wealth. There was no way he'd understand something like this. He'd probably been expecting an answer like "caviar" or "oysters." "I don't get to eat things like cake very often so it feels special."

"Jesus," Tony breathed, and Steve flinched.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm - uh -" Tony looked around like the workshop somehow held answers. He appeared to deflate. "Look, this isn't going to be a traditional bonding. There's not really much point in us bothering to get to know each other."

Steve braced himself for the worst.

"You're barely going to see me."

He blinked. "What?"

"I have a… problem that only bonding can solve. But I don't have -" he waved his hand dismissively "- time and stuff. So you don't have to worry about me. I just need you to live here, play the perfect omega in public, and the rest of the time you can do whatever you want."

"Oh." Steve didn't know what else to say to that. "Okay...."

"I'll have movers sent to your place to pack up all your stuff. If you just give me a minute, I'll - uh - actually - J, can you ask Pepper to show Steven his rooms?"

"Steve."

"Pardon?" Tony turned to him again and Steve wished he hadn't said anything.

"Sorry, sir. I go by Steve. Not Steven. If you don't mind."

"Ah. Okay. Steve. J, change the announcement, too. Steve Rogers. Oh, and call me Tony. None of that 'sir' and 'alpha' nonsense."

Steve couldn't tell when Tony was talking to him and when he was talking to… someone else? Someone called J. Then the room talked back.

"Yes, sir," it said, immediately belying Tony's latest request, so Steve supposed it had been directed at him, "I've changed the announcement. Miss Potts, however, regrets to inform you that she's otherwise engaged."

"God dammit," Tony hissed at the ceiling, hands on hips, and Steve planted his feet and fought the urge to flinch away from his anger. "Okay, fine. Okay. Okay. Right." He stared at his desk for a moment. "Come with me." He marched off for the door, and Steve tripped over his feet running after him. 

Tony led the way back up the stairs, through the great room again, and up another set of stairs. He turned left down the hall and pushed open a door at the end. It was a massive bedroom with a king bed in the middle. It was simple, almost everything in soft cream and grey, but perfectly clean and crisp. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't fiddle. This room was so bland and personality-less. What did that say about Tony?

"This is your room," Tony said, gesturing vaguely at it. "I didn't know how to decorate it so I left it simple. You can change anything you want. There's a sitting room attached through that door, for -" he paused. "I don't know. Whatever omegas do in their sitting rooms. And the other door is your bathroom. If there's anything you need that you don't have, just ask J. Your stuff should be here by bedtime."

"Wait, what?"

Tony turned back to Steve, startled, almost like he'd forgotten he was there. "What what?"

"My stuff - tonight? You want me to move in tonight?"

"Right now. Our bonding announcement is going out in one hour. Can't have my bonded omega living alone in another borough. Why? Did you have plans?"

"I'm - No…" Steve stared at the room. This was too fast. "Where's your room?"

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him. "Other end of the hall."

"Okay." Steve's eyes were starting to prick with heat that he was struggling to swallow back. "Okay. And - uh - who's J?"

"Oh. JARVIS. He's the AI that runs the tower - and my entire life. He's listening to everything all the time so if you need anything just ask for it out loud and he'll take care of it. Anything else?" Tony glanced at his phone and frowned.

"Do you - do I need to - um - make you breakfast in the morning…?"

Tony blinked at him. "No… I don't really… eat breakfast, anyway. Just - just do whatever you want, Steve. That's it." He gave a half-shrug.

"Okay," Steve choked out. He dropped damp eyes to the carpet. 

"Okay…" Tony echoed. "I - uh - have a meeting."

"Right. Of course. You said that."

"J, will let the movers up. Just tell them where you want everything to go."

"Okay."

Tony hovered for a moment, awkwardness thick enough between them that Steve was choking on it. 

"Well. Bye." Tony disappeared, his feet padding down the hall as he hustled off towards the stairs. 

Steve stood there in the doorway of his new, white bedroom for a long time, trying to choke back tears that he knew were inevitable. Tony didn't care, didn't want him, would just own him like an object, a princess trapped in the top of this damn tower, with his own pristine bedroom and abandoned heart. No one would ever have the chance to love him, and he'd never have a chance to fall in love. If Tony ever _had_ him, it would be purely physical, nothing more. Maybe that was his problem that only bonding could solve, the need for an on-demand, warm sleeve for his knot.

Steve shivered and wrapped his arms around himself as the first tear fell to the impeccable cream carpet under his feet. Unable to muss up the perfectly made bed, Steve walked through the door Tony had told him was the bathroom, sat on the edge of the tub, dropped his face in his hands, and cried.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve let himself cry for twenty minutes, then stood and made his way to the sink. He washed his face and hands on autopilot, not caring when the water smudged his makeup under his reddened eyes. The movers would be there soon, apparently, and he needed to let them in. His new alpha had only asked one thing of him tonight, maybe forever: let the movers in. 

Steve slipped out of the bathroom and avoided the giant bed again, stepping right out into the hall. Tony hadn't told him to stay in his room, and the apartment seemed empty anyway, Tony presumably off to his meeting. Steve took the chance to explore the great room he'd passed through twice now and never got a chance to see. 

Two steps led down to a living space, filled with sleek, leather couches and armchairs. One entire wall was pure glass, showcasing the blinking lights of the city that never slept. Along another wall was a wet bar with three, long shelves of gleaming bottles lined up behind it. On the other side of the elevator bank that came up in the middle of the space was the kitchen. It was spotless, beyond just clean and into untouched. Steve opened the fridge, but the only things inside were a few bottled smoothies - labels branded in the sleek, graphic way that suggested each drink cost an entire one of Steve's library paycheques - a sad looking carrot, and an uncovered tupperware container filled with tubes of some kind of ink or paste. 

Steve swung the door shut again, wondering idly how much Tony paid to run the huge, empty fridge in his huge, empty kitchen. The pantry had more in it, but it was still eclectic and somewhat confusing. A stack of gears leaned against a box of pricey protein bars, and two cans of whole tomatoes boasted an expiry date of two years ago. 

Tony clearly didn't cook - not surprising for an unbonded alpha, but he'd made it sound like he didn't want Steve to cook either. It was a shame; Steve actually liked cooking. But if Tony wasn't interested, he wouldn't order the ingredients Steve'd be able to use anyway, and it wouldn't be much fun to go to all that work just for one. No, Steve could continue to eat the way he always had, and hopefully Tony wouldn't mind him taking up a corner of the vast fridge for his cereal milk and sandwich supplies.

Steve kept wandering the penthouse, peering down halls and opening doors. He found a full gym, complete with a boxing ring and a bunch of equipment that looked like it was better suited to torture than exercise, and in an attached room, a pool, sauna, and hot tub. The pool ran right up against a full wall of windows so you could feel like you were going to float right off the edge of the earth. He supposed that was the only way rich people knew how to add a little thrill in their lives. Steve checking his bank balance before buying bread was all the excitement he needed these days,  _ thankyouverymuch. _ He also found a movie theatre, with a full-sized screen and seats for at least forty people, a huge meeting room with big, plush armchairs, three living rooms, and a vast storage area.

He went down the stairs to the workshop again, but the door was locked and he definitely wasn't going to knock.

He was taking his second turn past the gym, when the disembodied British voice made him startle with a yelp. "Excuse me, sir, but there's someone for you at elevator one."

"Jesus. Uh. Okay. Thank you." Steve supposed it was the movers, though really, with the way the JARVIS thing ran the apartment, it hardly seemed necessary for him to let them in. They'd already, presumably, jimmied themselves into his apartment - though considering the shitty doorknob lock he had, it wouldn't be hard - and he'd prefer not to have to fake a stiff upper lip while a bunch of strangers judged his shabby clothes and self-cut hair standing around in this opulence. They were probably going to roll their eyes and elbow each other, fully expecting to be moving his stuff back out again in another week.

He made his way back down the hallway to the block of elevators and found a broad-shouldered beta in a dark, ill-fitting suit looking down at a clipboard. "Hello," Steve said.

"Hi. You must be Steve." The man extended his hand. "I'm Happy. That's my name, not my mood. Though, I've got nothing to complain about. 'Cept maybe the Mets last night, am I right?" He gave Steve an assessing look.

"Uh. I missed the game."

"Sure. So I've got here your security credentials. That's me, head of security. Here's your badge." He handed over a white, square badge made of stiff plastic with a clip attached to the top. It had Steve's full name printed on it, the picture from his Registry posting, and a barcode. There was also a line for "Department" and next to it had been printed SPECIAL in all caps. "You won't need it up here, or if you're taking the private elevator up and down, but if you go to any other floor in the tower, besides the lobby and the penthouse, you'll need it clipped on. Even once everyone starts to get to know ya, still gotta have the badge." Happy tapped his own where it was clipped to his jacket pocket.

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're also going to want to clip this to your keys." He handed over a small square of plastic. 

"What is it?"

"Your panic button."

Steve stared down at it. Sure enough, there was a smooth, stiff button in the middle. "What - when would I use it?"

"Oh you know, in case of a kidnapping, terrorist attack, that kind of thing."

"Is that… likely to happen?"

"Pays to be prepared. Mr. Stark is a celebrity. As his omega, you could be a target for unsavory actions. My job is to make sure that doesn't happen, though, so don't you worry."

_ As his omega.  _ Steve was completely distracted from the implications of having been giving a terrorist attack button by those three words. It was the first time anyone had said it. He didn't even know if he was, officially, Tony's omega yet. If he hadn't been on the Registry, with no family to sign him away, he would have signed his own bonding certificate. But the Registry held the power to bond him now, which meant that all Tony had to do was file with the government and they'd be bonded. Steve didn't even have to be present at all, really. There was only one way to see if it had happened yet, and that was to check his Services account and see if his status had changed. 

"- so in that case, you just call me," Happy continued, unaware that his audience hadn't exactly been rapt. "Oh! Which reminds me. Your new phone." Happy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a StarkPhone. It was sleek and shiny, with a mint green case. Steve didn't really follow new tech, but he was pretty sure it was the newest version. Maybe newer than the newest.

"Thank you," he said, more on autopilot than out of any actual appreciation. 

"My number's in there under Happy, in case you need anything."

"Okay." Steve slid the phone into his pocket without even turning it on and Happy looked briefly uncertain but steadied himself and smiled again.

"Alright, well, that's you all set, then. Have a good night, boss."

"Thank you," Steve said again. "Happy."

Happy shot him a smile then stepped back into the elevator, giving a dorky little wave as the doors closed. Maybe in better circumstances, he'd be someone Steve would like to know. But then again, he was someone Steve never would have met in that case, so it hardly mattered.

Steve exchanged his security badge for the new phone and stared at the device. What did it mean? It certainly wasn't uncommon for an alpha to use a phone to track their omega, monitor their conversations and keep track of their friends. But Tony had said Steve could do whatever he wanted. Was it a trick? Or did he just assume that Steve would know better than to think "whatever you want" actually meant  _ anything.  _ Whatever a good little omega wanted was a smaller category for Tony to worry about.

Steve rolled the phone around in his hand. No… there was no way it wasn't monitored. Tony had PR to worry about, he was well known, and his reputation mattered, which meant everything Steve did would reflect back on Tony, now. And as much as he didn't want to accept it, as soon as the bonding was official, Steve had to do everything in his power to get Tony to keep him. Tony Stark was rich and powerful enough that there would be no hearing, no court case, if he changed his mind. Steve would be out on his ass, all the blame on him, and he'd be denied for renewal of services. The government would say Tony was responsible for providing alimony for him, and Tony would say Steve had broken their bond, and Steve would have no recourse to go after either of them. He'd die without his medication, and there was no job that an omega could get that would support the cost of those. 

So right there and then, Steve made a choice. He needed to protect his own ass, no matter what. And that meant treading carefully and being a good omega, giving Tony what he wanted, no matter how much it scared him, or how much it hurt. He turned the phone on and watched a swirl of colours dance across the screen as it loaded. It was brand new, nothing set up, so while he walked back to his room, Steve programmed in a few of the numbers from his old phone - the library, his doctor, Tony's number. Not Bucky's, though. That one he left where it was. He had it memorized, anyway, if need be. Teeth gritted, Steve typed out a careful text to Tony.

_ Thank you for the phone.  _

There was no reply. He was surely still in his meeting. Steve put it away in his pocket then clipped his security badge to the corner of the lampshade on his bedside table so he wouldn't lose it. Happy had said he'd only need it for other floors of the tower, and it was unlikely he'd be visiting those much, but he didn't want to lose it just in case. 

"Mr. Rogers?" the room asked.

Steve managed not to flinch that time, but his heart rate jumped and skipped. "Yes?"

"The movers have just arrived. They'll be in the freight elevator in two minutes and eleven seconds."

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "And where is the freight elevator?"

JARVIS directed him back behind the theatre to the storage room. At the end of that hall was a huge double-doored freight elevator. When it hummed to a stop and the doors slid open, four men in stiff, green shirts were standing next to a pile of boxes with  _ Stark  _ written on the side. 

Stark. Not Rogers.

Steve took a deep breath then gave them a smile. "Thank you. Everything is going up to my- a spare room. For now." Steve stuttered around his words, not sure if Tony would want to keep it between them that weren't sharing a room. Steve didn't even know that it was still common practice for omegas to have sitting rooms. He thought that was a holdover from a hundred years ago. It cropped up in his romance novels all the time, but most of those were either written in the thirties and forties and had a certain affection for a Victorian approach to relationships. There was nothing more bodice ripping than a young, blushing omega being bent over his beautiful settee in a delicately pink sitting room by his strong, virile alpha and taken right there.

Not that Steve had given it much thought.

He cleared his throat and led the movers with their carts to his bedroom. "You can put everything from the apartment in here and in the attached room. I'll sort it out after."

"You got it, sir."

Unable to watch the contents of his whole life be emptied into a sad stack in the corner of his new one, Steve told them he had some emails to send and escaped to the living room. He perched on the end of a huge, cushy armchair and clutched his new phone, staring at it, but not touching the smooth, unblemished screen. How late would Tony be in his meetings? When he was done, would he come to Steve? And… then what?

If they were bonded, Tony had every right to take whatever he wanted. That reminded Steve that he could check and see for sure if they were by logging into his services account. But for that he needed the internet and his little flip phone didn't have any data. Normally, he'd use the internet at the library, but he didn't know if he was ever going to be allowed to go back there. He squeezed the phone between his hands. There wasn't anything weird about looking up his services account, was there? If Tony asked, he could tell him he was making sure the bonding had gone through. It had the benefit of being true, and he could make it sound like it was because he wanted the answer to be yes.

In all honesty, he didn't know what he wanted the answer to be. Yes meant an unpleasant but slightly more certain future, trying to keep Tony interested long enough that he could set aside enough money of his own to protect himself if he got dumped. No meant… confusion. No meant wondering what Tony wanted from him if he didn't want to bond. No meant maybe never finding out what Tony's problem that only bonding could solve was. No meant that maybe, on top of all the other humiliation Steve was suffering through, Tony had met him and found him lacking, that he hadn't filed their early bond with the government and probably never would. That he'd take what he wanted then turn Steve away. At least, if that happened, it might be early enough on that he wouldn't lose his services. He could gather up what remained of his dignity and go back to the life he had that was working, that was  _ fine.  _ And someday Bucky would come back from his tour, and if he hadn't found an omega by then, maybe they could file a bond. Sure it was technically fraud, to file a bond just for benefits, but the risk had always felt worth it. 

Of course, with his luck, Tony would use him up and kick him out, OS would cancel his services, and Bucky would come back from his tour all flushed and grinning, with his newly bonded omega on his arm. He would try and take care of Steve, of course he would, he always had. But he'd have new priorities then, his own family, and Steve couldn't,  _ wouldn't,  _ be the one to stomp on that. He'd make it on his own; he always had.

Unable to sit there stewing in anxiety anymore, Steve swiped the phone open and clicked on the browser. He navigated through the clunky OS website to the login and typed in his email address and password. It was a password he didn't use anywhere else, but no doubt Tony now knew his email address and would find a way to log into that and track it. It wasn't a big risk - he didn't get many emails - but it was like every step he took here peeled away a little bit of himself, of his freedom.

The system logged in after a painfully long load, and Steve held his breath and clicked on his account details.

_ Status: Bonded -  _ **_#95847872_ **

Steve slapped his hand over his mouth as a sob threatened to sneak out. So that was it. He was Tony's. It was official.

**

JARVIS eventually told Steve the movers were gone, so he went upstairs to see what they'd done. There was a stack of boxes along one wall of the bedroom, and his meagre furniture had been put in the sitting room - his futon, a chair, and his grandmother's old dresser. That was it. That was everything. It had always filled his apartment right up, but here it looked small and shabby, like a dirt stain on the carpet. 

Steve ripped open a few boxes labelled "clothes" and took out his most presentable shirts and pants and hung them in the closet. The vast empty space only made the few filled hangers look even sadder, and Steve spread them out a little to give the impression of fullness. It didn't help. 

He was hungry, but there was no food in the kitchen that he felt comfortable eating - those protein bars were the only thing, really, and they must have cost a fortune - and the movers hadn't brought any of his food with them. There was still part of the sandwich he hadn't finished at lunch in his work bag, so he took it into the bathroom and sat on the floor to eat it, not wanting to get crumbs in the perfect carpet.

Maybe he'd never see Tony again, and this would be his life. He'd obviously have to go grocery shopping, but he was good at finding a deal. If Tony gave him an allowance to shop for both of them, he could keep Tony in smoothies and protein bars and still get enough bread and vegetables to be happy enough. If he didn't, maybe he'd still be able to get to his job. He had a savings account, but all it had in it was the $200 he wouldn't touch, to save for an inhaler if he ever ran into real trouble.

With his sandwich done, Steve didn't have much left he could do. He was exhausted, aching from head to foot, and his lungs were a little tight in a way that suggested that just a bit more panic, or one more bout of crying, was going to send him into a full asthma attack. Deciding that giving up was the part of valour, this time around, Steve dug through his boxes until he found his favourite fleece blanket. He carefully brushed his teeth and washed his face then changed into his pajamas. It was only nine, but Steve was tired enough that it hardly mattered. 

He stood and stared at the enormous bed, panic welling up again. It was huge. And perfectly made, each corner sharp and tugged in. The duvet on top was voluminous and fluffy, covered in so many pillows it seemed like half of the mattress was taken up - not that it really mattered, Steve would have fit on a quarter. 

Maybe Tony was expecting that it wouldn't just be Steve there for part of each night.

Steve's stomach churned and he turned away from the bed, slipping into the sitting room instead. It was just boxes and mess at this point, but his futon had been put in there, the white chaise and two armchairs that had been in there when he arrived shoved against the wall, and the futon smelled like home. So Steve took his blanket, closed the door and pushed a box up against it - not to lock it closed, just so he'd hear it and wake up if it moved - and crawled up onto the futon, his blanket wrapped around him. 

He thought he'd be up all night worrying, but apparently, he'd done enough worrying during the day and he conked out in only a few minutes.

**

Steve woke up on his own just after five in the morning. The box was where he'd left it, pressed against the door. Steve got out of bed, feeling like he hadn't slept at all. He took his medications and got dressed, even though there really wasn't anything he needed to do. For all he knew, he could just stay in his pajamas all day, locked in his sitting room, avoiding everyone, and no one would notice or even care. But he wasn't quite there yet.

"Good morning, sir," JARVIS said, and Steve managed to only have half a heart attack this time. 

"Good morning," Steve grumbled.

"Breakfast is served in the kitchen, sir, and I've booked an appointment for you with Doctor Harris at two fifteen."

"Breakfast?"

"Yes, sir." 

Steve stepped out of his room more out of curiosity than anything, drawn down to the kitchen, forgetting that Tony could appear at any moment and demand something of him. JARVIS hadn't lied; a full breakfast buffet had been set out on the kitchen counters, complete with chafing dishes and fancy china dishes. "Is… is this for me?"

"Mr. Stark wasn't sure what you would like so he ordered his standard breakfast for guests. Mr. Stark prefers coffee." JARVIS managed to sound disapproving.

"Oh." Steve swallowed heavily. "I can't eat all this. Oh my god. What a waste."

"Help yourself, sir, but there's no obligation. Anything you don't eat will be taken care of."

Steve didn't know what that meant, but it didn't sound like a good thing. This was enough food to feed him for a month, maybe more. His heart clenched in his chest, aching for the way he'd been living for so long. The thoughtless of tossing out a hundred dollars of food on the off chance Steve might eat it  _ hurt.  _ More than he would have thought. And he had to admit that part of it was the relief of being fed and he didn't want to owe that relief to Tony. 

His eyes burned a little and Steve marched forward and snatched up a large plate just to give himself something to do. He didn't want to eat Tony's food, but he really had no other option and he wasn't so impractical that he thought a hunger protest was worth anything, especially since it would likely lead to him passing out before the day was through.

He had a piece of toast and some scrambled eggs on his plate when something else clicked in. "Wait. Did you say I have an appointment today?"

"Yes, sir. With Doctor Harris at two fifteen."

"Who's Doctor Harris?"

"He's an omega specialist."

"Oh." Suddenly Steve wasn't hungry anymore. He picked at the eggs just for the sake of not wasting them, but his stomach was churning. An omega specialist. That could mean any number of things, but at the least, it would mean an uncomfortable and invasive exam. And Tony hadn't even asked Steve, hadn't let him book the appointment. He couldn't help but ask, "What - what is the appointment for?"

"My apologies, sir, but I'm not privy to that information. Mr. Stark merely asked me to book an hour for you with Dr. Harris."

"Right. Of course." Steve ate as much as he could manage then washed his dish and left it to dry in the strainer. He couldn't bear to leave the food to dry out, so he packed up what he could in foil and put it in the fridge. JARVIS, perhaps choosing his battles, said nothing. "Where's Mr. Stark?"

"He is working. Do you require him for something?"

"No, no. I'm fine." Steve took another turn around the vast penthouse. It was exactly the same as the previous day. If Tony had appeared at all after Steve fell asleep, he'd either cleaned up after himself or hadn't touched anything but his own room. Steve was too afraid to open that door. 

He ended up back at his own room. He stared at the boxes. Leaving them unpacked felt like some stupid, vain hope that he would never need to unpack them, that this was some random dream that would all be over when he woke. But it wasn't. He and Tony were bonded, and if he wanted to survive, he needed to stay. As much as he wanted to be free, he couldn't live without his services and the odds of getting them back if Tony dumped him were so low it wasn't worth risking his life. So he needed to live here, and show Tony that he knew he lived here, that he wanted to stay, and that he'd be the omega Tony needed him to be. Which included unpacking and going to his doctor's appointment, even when his whole body cringed at the idea. 

He rolled his sleeves up and pulled the first box towards him. Linens went into the closet on the shelves above his meagre collection of shirts and pants. His shoes went underneath: one pair of shabby runners and one pair of black, leather, dress shoes, carefully maintained. They were too big and Steve had to shove wads of newspapers into the toes to keep them from sliding off, but they'd been 50% off at a thrift store and he used them for interviews and meetings at the OS offices. He wondered if Tony would buy clothes for him, if he'd want to see him in certain colours or styles. Going off the design of Steve's rooms, Tony liked his omegas in the classics - floral, pastel, boring. Steve could handle boring.

He could.

He could handle that aspect of his life being taken over by someone else, sure. Why not. He was already living in a stranger's house, eating a stranger's food, and going to appointments made for him by a stranger. Tony might as well dress him up like a doll while he was at it.

The next box was books, and Steve got a little distracted. His collection was small but carefully and lovingly collected. The library had a sale each year of their old or damaged books, to try and raise the money to buy new ones, and Steve saved a tiny bit from each paycheck, whenever he could, and bought a few. He also had several books he'd borrowed from the library. He'd need to find a way to return them. Maybe JARVIS could help him mail them back.

He lined the books up on the shelf that had come from his place. It was a small bookcase, only two low shelves, but his collection barely filled it. One of the last books he pulled from the box was one he hadn't read yet, a bookmark tucked in the first few pages. He leaned back against the wall and flicked it open. It was a romance, from the Omega Fiction section at the library, the cover showing a muscle-studded alpha with his shirt ripped open, sprawled on a beach with an omega bent over him, looking concerned. 

Steve cracked the cover, just to read the summary, and immediately got sucked in. The omega, Maxmilian, lived a beautiful but boring life as the child of a wealthy gentleman on a beautiful island with blue skies and bluer waters. One day, a stunning alpha man washed up on the beach and the omega found him. Steve devoured the pages, and by the time the omega had brought the unconscious alpha up to his room in secret, JARVIS spoke up, startling him out of his reading.

"The car will be here in ten minutes, sir."

"What?" Steve dropped the book. He was sitting on the floor, amongst the open boxes, half his things unpacked. 

"Your appointment, sir. The car will be here in ten minutes to pick you up."

"Oh, shit!" Steve scrambled up to his feet and into the bathroom. He freshened up, washing his face and brushing his teeth, then changed his shirt, shoved his inhaler in his pocket, and ran out the door. The elevator took him straight down to the garage where a black town car was idling. For a moment, Steve wondered if Tony was going to be inside waiting for him, but Happy came around the side door and opened it with a smile, revealing its empty inside. Steve couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed, caught between wanting Tony to care about his well being just a little bit and preferring to be left on his own, really.

"Hi, Happy."

"Heya, boss! How was your night?"

Steve tried to find a smile. "Fine. Thank you."

"Best be off, or we'll be late in this traffic."

_ Or we could skip it entirely,  _ Steve thought. But he climbed in the backseat and buckled in. The traffic was slow, indeed, but Happy hummed along happily to the radio, once it became clear that Steve didn't have much to say, and didn't seem bothered by their snail-like progress. After about half an hour, they pulled up in front of a swanky office block with garish, metal plates by the door proclaiming its occupants: two omega specialist doctors, an alpha doctor, a dentist, and a pediatrician. 

"All set," Happy said. He idled against the curb and hopped out to open Steve's door. "I'll be back to pick you up in an hour, but if you finish early, just text me and I'll show up."

"Thank you." Steve turned to the glass front door of the building. Dr. Harris was on the third floor. Steve walked past the security guard, resisting the urge to adjust his shabby shirt or draw attention to his lack of belt. There was yet another elevator - Steve almost took the stairs as his own personal protest against all of this nonsense, but that would leave him huffing and puffing all over the doctor and probably mess up all their tests. 

Steve pulled open the door to Dr. Harris's offices and froze. Leaning up against the counter on one elbow, flashing a smarmy grin at the receptionist was Tony Stark. "Oh," Steve said, and they both turned to look at him.

"Steve. You're here. Good." Tony held out a hand and Steve shuffled forward, slotting his into Tony's reluctantly. "This is my omega, Steve," Tony said to the receptionist.

"Welcome. I've got you all signed in, already."

Of course she did, because as long as his alpha was there, Steve might as well have been there, even if it was his ass about to be inspected humiliatingly. "Thank you," he managed, trying to offer Tony a smile and not sure if he was succeeding. 

Tony's hand squeezed around his once, then let go, and Steve immediately shoved both of his in his pockets. 

Steve expected to have to wait, already panicking about what he was going to say to Tony, since the only question that came to mind was  _ why are you here?  _ But the receptionist stood and gestured them through a door. "You can go right on through." She met them on the other side of the door and led them down the hall to an exam room. "Dr. Harris will be right with you." She dropped a file on the desk and walked out, leaving Steve and Tony alone.

Steve climbed up on the exam table and Tony took a seat under the window. 

"Movers come okay?" Tony asked.

Steve nodded. "Yes, thank you. All my things are moved. I'm - uh - working on unpacking."

"Good, good. You can decorate however you want, you know? I didn't know what sort of colours and -" Tony waved his hand vaguely. "Furniture and stuff."

"Oh. Um. Thank you?"

Tony shrugged. "It's your space." He tapped his fingers against his thigh, and Steve was about to ask the question that was tormenting him when Tony said, "I think that -"

The door opened and an older, grey haired beta appeared with a soft smile and a vague expression. "Good afternoon, Mr. Stark. And this must be your lovely omega. Congratulations." Dr. Harris offered Steve his hand and Steve took it dutifully. 

Steve waited for Tony's introduction, but Tony was looking at his phone, and when it didn't come, he offered his own. "Steve. Nice to meet you."

Dr. Harris seemed unphased. He sat on a stool and opened Steve's file, humming as he flipped through pages and pages of dense medical records. Steve shot a nervous look to Tony. Was he going to stay for the more… intimate part of the exam? Some alphas wanted proof that they were getting untainted goods, and with Steve the age he was, and having gone through as many heats as he had, he didn't blame Tony for having his doubts. But his stomach still churned at the thought of Tony standing there, staring at him with the doctor, while he was naked and exposed. Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

"So how can I help you today?" the doctor asked Tony, who finally looked up from his phone.

Steve waited for the hammer to fall. 

"I'm concerned that Steve hasn't had the best care for his chronic illnesses in the past. He's has an Albuterol rescue inhaler for his asthma, but I've read that daily bronchodilators and steroids are more effective long-term. I'd like a full evaluation of his lung capacity and heart health, blood pressure, etcetera. Check all his medications, make sure there are no interactions and that we can't do better. Steve, anything you didn't mention to your other doctors?"

Steve blinked at him. "Um. Oh. Well, I was told I was anemic once, but…"

Tony turned back to the doctor. "Full blood panel, too."

"Wonderful." Dr. Harris rolled his chair over in front of Steve. "We'll start with heart and lungs, Steve."

"Do you want me to stay?" Tony asked.

Steve had honestly never considered he'd have that option, but when faced with it, he found himself wanting Tony to stay. His experience with doctors had been exhausting at best, and it had always gone better when Buck had come with him to back up what he was saying. Tony at least seemed interested in getting Steve properly checked out and so far there hadn't been any mention of his… omeganess.

"Please stay."

"Okay." Tony turned back to his phone.

Dr. Harris checked Steve's heart and lungs, asked him about all the medications he was taking and made notes. He took a list of Steve's anemia symptoms and allergies and told him they would be changing all of his prescriptions. Steve tried very hard not to think about how expensive it would be. Surely, Tony knew he couldn't pay himself?

When he was done, Dr. Harris turned to Tony. "You're still interested in the - uh - ?"

Tony shot him a look then nodded. "Right. I'll, um. I'll be outside so you can talk about it. Is that okay, Steve?"

Steve didn't know what they were going to talk about, but Dr. Harris had been nothing but kind and gentle so he nodded. As soon as Tony was gone, Dr. Harris asked, "How are your heats, Steve?" So this was the ramp up. Next, he'd be asking if Steve had ever solicited "help" for those heats, and then say he was going to do an exam, just to be sure.

"Oh. They're fine. They don't last very long. Sometimes the cramps are bad, and the sweats, but I've gone through eight just fine."

"Eight. Wow. No alpha assistance?"

The back of Steve's neck heated. Was Tony listening at the door to find out how much of a slut Steve was? "No, sir. Never."

Dr. Harris nodded sympathetically. "That must have been hard for you."

"It was fine. My heats aren't too bad."

"Mr. Stark asked me to prescribe you suppressants. This drug is fairly mild and won't interact with anything else you're taking. It will severely reduce your heats, or, in most cases, eliminate them altogether. There are no risks with taking it long term, and your fertility will return within a few months of stopping taking them, should you wish to start a family. Side effects can include some mild bloating, headaches, and weight gain. Rare side effects are bleeding, blood clots, and dizzy spells. If you do experience any unreasonable side effects, there are other drugs we can try."

Steve sat stock still on the paper cover of the exam table. It was a trick. A test. So much for checking to see if Steve was a big omega slut, Tony wanted to know if he was a criminal too. "No, thank you, sir. Those are illegal."

Dr. Harris smiled indulgently. "They're controlled, yes, but not illegal. Alphas can request them, in reasonable circumstances. With your health concerns, heats could be quite hard on your body. Mr. Stark also travels a lot and is concerned that he won't be around for all your heats. They're perfectly okay to take, Steve. I'm going to write you a prescription to be filled at the pharmacy. They wouldn't do that if it wasn't allowed."

Steve made a noncommittal noise. 

"Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir," Steve said. Even if he did, it hardly mattered. He wouldn't be taking them.

"Okay, then. Anything else you want to talk about? Personal pain, concerns about bonding? Anything at all? We're protected by confidentiality, here. Your alpha doesn't need to know anything you don't want him to know."

Steve had about a million concerns about bonding, but none that Dr. Harris could help him with. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Alright then." Dr. Harris filled out several prescription forms and handed Steve the stack, then put his own business card on top. "You can call any time. I'll always be happy to see you Steve, with any questions you might have. If you have any side effects from any of these, come on back in and we'll sort you out."

"Okay, Thank you." 

When Steve stepped out, still shocked that no one had touched him beyond a stethoscope to the chest and a blood draw, Tony was leaning against the wall across the hall. He stood and shoved his phone in his pocket. "Get everything you need?"

"Yes, Mr. St- Tony."

"Great. Let's go. I texted Happy. We'll hit the pharmacy and then drop you back at the tower."

"Okay."

Happy was indeed waiting at the curb for them, and Tony opened the door for Steve and ushered him in. He slid across the seat to lean against the far window and Tony didn't scoot closer, staying against his door on the other side. His eyes dropped to his phone again, expression slowly settling into a frown. The drive to the pharmacy was faster than the drive from the tower had been. Tony walked in with confidence, guiding Steve in front of him with a light touch on his lower back.

No one had ever really given Steve a second glance, even as an unbonded omega. It was part of how he'd gotten by for so long without bother. He didn't have the curves and curls and fluttering eyelashes that drew an alpha eye, so the thirsting looks and lascivious smiles and catcalls that plagued other omegas he knew had never really been a problem for him. But he'd never really thought much about the looks he did get until he stepped in the busy drug store with Tony. 

No one looked at him. If they looked at him by chance, glancing up or stepping suddenly around a corner, their eyes immediately cut to Tony. It was like there was a force field around Steve, bouncing all attention away. The only person who looked at him was another bonded omega, out with his alpha who shot Steve a small half-smile as they passed, walking down the shampoo aisle. It was surreal. Steve couldn't decide if it was a welcome change or not. He'd always preferred to observe over being observed but this made it feel like Tony was draped over him, claiming and growling and turning the world away. He was possessed, now, whether Tony was possessive or not. To the other alphas in the building, he was claimed property, useless to them.

The pharmacist at the desk held no differing opinions. He looked to Tony and only Tony. "How can I help you, sir?"

Tony looked pointedly at Steve who slid his stack of prescription forms across the desk.

The pharmacist peered at them through his glasses, nodding and flipping through until the last one. Steve could feel his cheeks colouring. "I'll need ID for this one, sir."

Steve made half a motion to reach for his wallet before he realized the pharmacist was asking for Tony's ID, not his. He scratched his hip to cover the movement then let his hand fall again. Tony dug his own wallet out. To Steve's shock and, quite frankly, amusement, Tony's wallet wasn't some sleek five thousand dollar, leather affair. It was a fabric wallet that clearly had once had velcro but now just refused to latch shut, partially because it was so overstuffed with paper that the seams were weeping, but also because it was clearly so old that time and use had eroded the velcro strap to nothing more than slightly nubbly fabric. It said "Star Wars" on it with a cracked, faded image of Chewbacca on the side. Steve blinked at it, holding back the extremely unwelcome urge to laugh.

Tony dug his ID card out of the mess and tossed it over to the pharmacist. "I'd like to make that authorization permanent," he said. "Click the little box. I don't want to have to come here again."

"Sir? Are you sure? That would mean your omega could fill  _ any  _ prescription." He cleared his throat delicately. "Even over the phone."

"Yes," Tony snapped back. "That's the idea. If Steve's doctor is willing to prescribe it, then I want him to have it." He tapped his finger against the desk firmly. "Authorize his account. I don't want the renewal phone calls or any sort of 'account reviews.' This is his file, not mine."

The pharmacist cleared his throat. "Yes, sir." After far too much typing, he handed Tony's ID back. "It will take a couple hours to get all of these together."

"Have them delivered tomorrow. My assistant will call in payment." Tony slid a business card across the desk that presumably had his -  _ their -  _ address on it and the number to call in to JARVIS. The pharmacist nodded, so Tony dropped his hand to Steve's back again and drove him gently towards the door. 

Now there were two town cars parked at the curb.

"All set?" Tony asked Steve, as if he had any concept of what "set" would feel like in this context.

"Yes?"

"Okay, perfect. J will handle the delivery. If you have any questions or need to talk to Dr. Harris again, just tell JARVIS and he'll set up an appointment or a call or something. And you can order your own prescriptions now, by coming here or asking JARVIS to call the renewals in. So, uh…" Tony trailed off as if he was running out of things to say.

"Thank you for coming," Steve said, because if he was entirely honest with himself, he was glad Tony had handled most of this. It was mortifying, but it felt like some sort of protection to have Tony there, walking him through everything and talking to everyone first. Steve had carved out a life that worked, and sure, he'd go back to it in a heartbeat if given the opportunity to, but if he was stuck here, in a new world he didn't understand, and if he had to navigate that, the least Tony could do was help him through it. He'd figure it out eventually.

"Uh. Sure. I know they don't, you know, always listen that great, to an omega on their own. Though, Doctor Harris is great! I wouldn't, you know, send you to… well anyway. Okay. I have to go back to work. Have a good one." Tony looked around almost furtively, as if someone might be watching and judging them somehow, then made for the second town car. 

Steve blinked after him, no doubt making the face that Bucky called his "resting murder face," trying to figure out what had just happened. "Oh!" Steve called after him. "Do you…. Uhh, dinner? Would you like me to cook?"

Tony stopped half in the car and stared at him like he'd just sprouted a second head. "What?"

"Cook. Do you… want dinner. I'm -" Steve didn't know how to say  _ what am I supposed to do to make this work? _

"Oh. No. Sorry, I - uh - I'll be late at work. You can order whatever you want through JARVIS, though."

"Right. Okay. Thank you."

Steve climbed in his car, unable to help turning around to watch Tony's car drive off in the opposite direction. Tony had come all the way through midtown traffic to help Steve at his doctor's appointment. But then he'd disappeared again, working late… Steve sighed and turned back in his seat. It wasn't even like he wanted Tony at the apartment. It was stressful enough being around all that expensive stuff with just JARVIS watching, he didn't need to be dancing around Tony too. But he couldn't help but be curious about the man who had chosen him. 

Why would anyone choose him…?

Back at the penthouse, Steve pulled a blanket down on the floor with him and picked up his book again. He was just getting to the good part.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve's medications were delivered the next morning, a few hours after he pulled himself out of bed. He'd told JARVIS not to order breakfast again, opting to eat more of the leftovers for both dinner the night before and breakfast now. Cold pancakes only lasted so long, though; Steve was going to have to come up with an ongoing plan for food. 

JARVIS alerted him to a delivery at the door and when he went to the elevator, it was open and a package was sitting inside. Apparently, delivery people weren't allowed to go upstairs. Steve picked it up and carried it up to his bathroom. He opened it and carefully laid out a row of pill bottles. Each one was enough for two months, and the total price on the printout - reduced to zero by insurance, but listed nonetheless - was enough to make his blood run cold. 

There was something for his heart, something for his blood pressure, a hayfever pill, vitamins, an EpiPen, and the new inhalers. 

And the heat suppressants. 

Steve picked up the bottle of white tablets and stared at it. He didn't know anyone who had taken them, didn't know anyone who would have had access to them. He'd heard stories, though. Stories of omegas who got stuck in heat, who ruined their fertility, who couldn't take a knot anymore. Stories of alpha-rejection….

He knew he absolutely should take them. Not just because he was living alone in a house with an alpha (apparently - though, Tony living there remained to be seen) that he did not want to knot with, but also because Tony had asked him to. So far, Tony had shown little to no interest in Steve's body, which, well, he could understand why not. But maybe the medication and the food… maybe Tony was trying to…

Well.

Fix him. Get him ready, prepare him to be the perfect omega. But then why the suppressants? Steve knew he had a cycle, could have a heat - though he had skipped a few and his cycle wasn't exactly predictable - and had survived them well enough, even as unpleasant as they were alone. So it wasn't like there was any reason to hold them off while his health improved. Maybe Tony was afraid to get him pregnant… though, there were other options for that too. Maybe Tony was so repulsed by him that he didn't want to be overcome by his hormones and then regret it. Though, believable as that was, it didn't explain at all why Tony had chosen him, of all omegas, from the registry.

Steve rolled the bottle in his hands. He didn't have to start tonight. His last heat was - he did some quick math - about four months ago, which meant the next one would be due in about two months. As long as he started taking the suppressants at least three weeks before, they'd work, so really, there was no need to start now. He opened his medicine cabinet and tucked the bottle inside. He'd think about it, do a little research, and then decide. Maybe he'd get up the courage to ask Tony why. Maybe the hammer would drop before then and he'd figure out what game Tony was playing. Either way, today, the bottle would remain unopened.

Also in the package was a plastic pill organizer, the kind with two rows of little cubbies with lids that snapped down satisfyingly over each one. Steve read the instructions for each drug carefully and doled them out into the little squares. The doctor had prescribed a control inhaler which was new to him. He'd only ever had rescue inhalers, but now he was supposed to take a dose every day, twice a day, to hopefully stave off his symptoms entirely. He had a new rescue inhaler, too, with a different drug inside. 

Steve took a puff of the new control inhaler then put it in the cabinet with his other medicines. He brushed his teeth and walked back into the bedroom. That was… about it for the day. And it was nine-thirty. He sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. He still hadn't brought himself to sleep on it - last night had been spent on the futon again, but since he hadn't opened it flat, it had put a crick in his neck. 

"JARVIS, where is Tony?" he asked.

Steve mouthed along with the AI when he replied, "Mr. Stark is currently at work."

"Alright." Steve found his book from yesterday and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. There was no point in sitting around in his messy room when there was an entire, gorgeous apartment that Tony wasn't using. He'd wandered enough that he had a good idea of where he wanted to go. There was a formal living room on the main floor, down the hall from the theatre. The furniture was stodgy and unused, but the windows were  _ stunning.  _

Steve took an ottoman from next to the couch and rolled it around the back of an armchair, making a nook between the chair and the window. He bundled himself up in his blanket and settled down on the ottoman, leaning back against the back of the chair, his feet braced against the glass of the window. It didn't hurt that this side of the tower faced Brooklyn.

Last he'd left off, the omega in his novel had nursed the lost alpha back to consciousness, hidden him from his father while caring for his wounds. Soon, he discovered, in a shocking twist, that the alpha was a pirate, the wild and as yet untamed Sébastien. But the omega had already had his frozen heart melted and was in love with the man. Steve devoured page after page of flowery pining, his own chest aching with need along with them. God, to find love like that. He'd rather love but be forced to be apart than live this bland half-life with a man who didn't care a speck for him. At least if there'd been  _ someone,  _ even if it hadn't worked out, he'd be able to close his eyes and picture a face, feel that heart-yearning for himself. 

He should be grateful, he told himself for the hundredth time. He was too old to find love anyway, and at least this way he had a shot at stability. And two months of medications, paid for. But when he turned back to his book, it still hurt.

Three hours later, he turned the last page. The omega and alpha ran off together to start a new life, deeply in love and full of hope. There'd been a few steamy sections that had Steve shifting where he sat, but thankfully he hadn't made a mess of any kind.  _ That  _ was a smell he didn't want wafting around the apartment, even if it was just for as long as it took him to bring the blanket to the laundry. The book was good, and he finished the last chapter with a smile. There were a few more pages, though, so he flipped through them, and they turned out to be teasers for the next book in the series. He hadn't known it was a series. 

That brought him back to the omega library. Steve had been avoiding the fact that he was booked for shifts tomorrow and the day after. Tony had said he didn't care what Steve did, but that could only go so far, and rich, upper class alphas didn't let their omegas work. But the library probably didn't know Steve belonged to a rich, upper class alpha now… and if Steve didn't use Happy to take him there - would Tony know?

Steve tipped his head back over the ottoman and stared at the ceiling. It was decorated with a pointless plaster swirl that seemed designed to do nothing but collect dust. It looked like one of those plastic rings of frozen shrimp that always seemed to appear at the holiday parties Steve had been invited to when his mother was still alive. He imagined a tub of cocktail sauce in the middle. 

What was the worst that could happen if he went to work? Tony would find out and punish him, tell him he couldn't go back. But Steve could argue that Tony had said he didn't care what Steve did. It wouldn't really matter, having a logical argument in the face of an angry alpha, but at least Steve would have something to say. And maybe Tony would learn from it that he had to be more specific about what he wanted if he expected Steve to behave.

"Beep."

"What?" Steve sat up and looked around.

"Beep."

The sound seemed to be coming from underneath the couch. Steve got down on his hands and knees and looked. There was a flat, round robot… thing. Steve looked at the robot. The robot's little wheels spun. "Beep," it said, morosely.

"Are you stuck?" Steve reached in and grabbed it, somewhat concerned for the safety of his hand. He pulled. The robot was surprisingly heavy. It was clear, as soon as he got it out, that the robot had something caught in its undercarriage; it didn't sit properly on the ground. Steve tipped it up and saw that it had a kind of port on the bottom with a little brush. "Are you a cleaning robot? That's clever."

A large screw was sticking out of the port and he wiggled it until it popped free. He turned the robot back over and it beeped again, twice, then started to make a soft, low vacuuming noise that Steve realized had been in the background the whole time he'd been reading. Living in all the battered-down buildings he had, he'd become so used to tuning out strange noises that he hadn't even noticed it. 

The little robot was undeniably cute, little vents on the top kind of looking like eyes which gave it a smiling face appearance when you looked at it head on. 

"I wonder if you're the only one." Steve picked up his book and followed the robot to the other end of the room. It bounced gently off a shelf and turned in another direction. The robot hummed quietly for a few more minutes then made a beeline for a corner behind a bookshelf. Tucked away was a little station with a green blinking light on the top. The robot docked at one part to empty the dust it had collected then docked again and the yellow light on its top started to pulse gently. It was charging.

Steve liked it. It was a simple life, puttering around and cleaning up dust in a room no one ever used. And yet… Steve pulled the screw out of his pocket. How did it get in here?

"JARVIS does this robot have a name?"

"No, sir. That's a standard cleaning unit. Mark sixty-eight."

Steve crouched down and patted it. "You need a name. JARVIS is a robot and he gets a name so you deserve one too. I'll call you Joshua," he decided.

Joshua didn't reply, but Steve had to assume he was pleased. The rest of the day melted away in idling time-passing and though he'd thought about it all day, by the next morning Steve felt so sick with anxiety about work that he texted Maria and told her he couldn't come in. A sick day wasn't the same as quitting and it gave him a little space to decide what he was going to do long term. 

He read his way through another one of his books, Joshua humming around his feet, but all he had left were ones he'd read before. He left his knook in the formal living room and wandered around aimlessly for a while. His imagination kept wandering back to the pirate book and the knowledge that it was a series. But if he never went back to work, he'd never find out what happened in the next one. Unless…

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Um. When Tony said I could order anything I wanted through you, he just meant food, right?"

"Of course not. Mr. Stark expects that there will be many things you'll need to make living here comfortable. He also expects you to wish to redecorate your rooms. If you'd like to look at some fabric and paint colour options, I can bring in a decorator to assist you."

"Oh." That sort of explained the drabness of his space. Tony had expected Steve to redo it. Come to think of it, he had mentioned that a few times, hadn't he? He'd better do something, to show Tony he was grateful, but he'd never had options for interior decorating before so he wasn't sure what he might like to do. Besides, other things were more pressing now. "What about… books?"

"Yes, of course, sir."

"Okay…" Steve weighed his options. Tony was definitely going to see his orders so he needed to be careful. "Please order me two books on interior decorating, whatever is popular right now, a cookbook for newly bonded omegas, 'Your New Bond' by Alice Jannis, and um. And  _ book-two-of-the-Pirate's-Heart-series-by-Nina-Bloom." _

"Yes, sir. They'll arrive tomorrow."

"Thank you." Steve blew out a slow stream of air, trying to calm his racing heart along with it. He half expected Tony to jump out of a closet and yell,  _ "Gotcha!"  _ but sure enough, the penthouse stayed quiet. 

Steve went back to his own space and looked it over more critically. He'd forgotten about redecorating. It was something omegas had always been doing in the sitcoms he had watched with his mom when he was little. Inevitably, half the house was always "in the middle of redecorating" and omegas would talk about fabric samples, and paint chips, and window treatments. Steve had never given any thought whatsoever to interior design, but he had a good eye for lines and colours and so adored the art and architecture books he'd read from the library, that it seemed like a project he was capable of tackling. And it seemed like it might please Tony, too. Or, at the very least, it would give the impression that he was settling in.

"JARVIS… if I wanted to look at paint chips and stuff…?"

"I'd recommend using one of the StarkTabs, sir. The supply closet is next to Mr. Stark's office and you're welcome to take anything you like."

"Oh. Okay." Steve followed JARVIS' directions down the hall and tugged open the closet. It looked like a linen closet from the outside, but it turned out to be a walk-in, filled from top to bottom with sleek, white boxes stamped with the Stark Industries logo. "Anything?"

"Yes, sir. I recommend the StarkTab 10."

"Thank you." Steve reached for the box, but he paused before his fingers touched the smooth, shiny box. All this stuff was so expensive, and it was just sitting here, waiting around. It was hard to wrap his head around. He finally tugged the box off the shelf and slipped out before anything else on the shelves could draw his attention. He shut the closet firmly, wondering idly why Tony didn't keep it locked, and made his way back to his sitting room. 

Settled on the futon, Steve plugged the tablet in and turned it on. It came preloaded with a bunch of software, but everything needed to update, so Steve sat idly for a while, waiting, mind wandering. He thought back to his book, wondering what might happen in the sequel. His imagination was meandering through fantasies of finding a gorgeous alpha of his own, washed up on the shores of… Stark Tower, when the tablet buzzed in his hand to say the updates were finished.

Steve went to the web browser and typed in "paint colours" then clicked search. The results were not quite what he was expecting. The search engine's entire first page of hits were for artists' paints, not wall paint, most of which were ads for places he could order those paints from. Steve was about to add "wall" and "interior design" to his search, when a set of oil paints for sale caught his eye. He clicked the ad, just to see the picture up close - the colours seemed so much more vivid on the perfectly bright, clear screen of the brand new tablet - and it took him to Amazon. A set of thirty-two tubes, a full rainbow of colours. They were  _ gorgeous.  _

Below the images of the paint tubes were other recommended items: brushes, canvas, more paints, more brushes. Steve clicked through them idly for a while, coveting each item more than the last. They were stunning, all of them. So many options, shapes of brushes, shades of green, styles of canvas. It set an ache low in his chest that he'd never felt before. Trying to click through the pictures of a set of pastels, Steve accidentally hit the add to cart button and watched, almost impassively, as the little number beside the picture of the shopping cart popped up to "1." Well, it wouldn't hurt, right? To just pretend. It was like shopping for plastic groceries as a kid. He could click on anything he wanted, fill up the cart, and daydream, pretending it was all for him.

The next three hours went by in a frenzy of fantasy shopping, and it was only JARVIS reminding Steve that he had an optometrist's appointment that got him off his ass and into the bathroom for a shower. Steve rushed through his toilette and threw on some clothes then blasted out of the tower just in time to catch Happy pulling up in a town car.

The optometrist was kind and gentle, but seemed slightly shocked at how bad Steve's vision was. The "one or two" went on for over an hour. At one point, someone knocked on the door, and Steve wondered if Tony was going to show up for this appointment too, but it turned out to just be the receptionist. Apparently, Tony didn't think that Steve needed an alpha to advocate for him when it came to glasses. 

The optometrist prescribed glasses, fairly heavy ones, and told Steve he also had the option of wearing contacts instead. Steve spent another hour trying on frames before settling on simple, thin, black ones. They felt stiff and secure, even when he pulled them off roughly, which would suit him well. The receptionist billed everything to Tony and promised Steve he'd get a delivery the next day.

**

Steve woke with a jolt to a loud crash coming from somewhere beneath him. He startled off the futon, heart pounding, and took a hit from his inhaler. It was 4:28, according to the clock he'd moved in from the bedroom. He sat there for a moment, but all was quiet. His pulse thundered under his skin, shooting adrenaline through his body. He'd never be able to fall asleep again now. It was amazing, really, how quickly he'd adjusted to the quiet of Stark Tower. His old apartment had constantly been full of noise from the street, from the other apartments, but this room was alway dead silent. Except tonight.

"Is everything okay, JARVIS?" Steve asked, as soon as his brain was online enough to remind him that they had an all-seeing security system in the apartment.

"Yes sir. Mr. Stark had an… incident with one of his prototypes, but all is well."

"Oh." Steve kicked his legs out of bed and sat up. He checked both phones, but there were no notifications on either one. Knowing he wasn't going to sleep again, he decided to get a leftover pancake from the kitchen and heat it up in the toaster, his churning stomach needing something solid inside to settle it.

But when Steve pulled open the door to his bedroom, there was a man standing in the hallway. "Ah!" He jumped back a foot and the man yelped too, staggering to the side and into the wall. It was Tony. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, sir. Tony. I didn't know you were there."

"Shit." Tony blinked at him, and now that Steve's eyes had adjusted to the low light, he could see that the alpha was completely soaked from head to foot, his hair plastered to his face and his clothes clinging to him. He was clutching a StarkPad just like Steve's to his chest and it was glowing with an eerie, blue light. "Steve."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay." He was slurring a bit and Steve took a step back, folding his arms around his waist. Tony was drunk? JARVIS had said he was working, but maybe that was code for something less savory. "It's okay. Kinda forgot you were here, to be honest."

_ "Are _ you okay?"

"Oh yeah. Fine. Just a little…" Tony's eyes darted around randomly. "Thing. With - stuff. And -" he looked down at his soaked clothes. "DUM-E. He's enthusiastic, but wrong."

"Right…"

"Sorry, you were probably -" Tony gestured wildly with the hand that wasn't clutching the tablet to his chest. 

"Uh. Kitchen. Water."

"Of course. Water. Good for you. I should -" Tony pointed down the hall towards his room then followed his finger, shuffling away and leaving wet footprints in an uneven line on the carpet. 

Drunk. Well. Lovely. Tony was drunk and his robot butler covered for him. He smelled like smoke and acrid, burning chemicals, and Steve held his breath all the way to the kitchen then breathed in deeply a few times to clear his lungs. His alpha was a drunk. The tabloids had made that claim several times over, but Steve preferred his own evidence when it came to rumours like that. But Tony had been wobbly and unfocused, slurred and confused. And sure, it was the middle of the night, but that wasn't much of an excuse. The new information should have stirred up fear deep in Steve's belly - a drunk alpha was an unpredictable alpha - but it didn't. It just fell flat on top of all the other fears this whole apartment reeked of. Tony was already terrifying; being a drunk didn't really make a difference.

Steve found some juice in the fridge and a pancake, dried out and stale by now so he microwaved it instead of putting it in the toaster, and took them back up to his sitting room. He slid the box in front of the door and stayed awake the rest of the night with his tablet, scrolling through the painting supplies and adding them to his shopping cart. 

**

JARVIS told Steve that Tony was on a plane to California the next morning so Steve wandered around the apartment with confidence, wondering if Tony had still been plastered when he'd gotten on the plane. It must have been early, because Steve was barely sleeping past six, these days, his body apparently fitting twice as much sleep in half the time with a full belly and his new medications. At ten o'clock, JARVIS announced that Steve's delivery had arrived, and he went to the elevator, eager to check out his new glasses.

But when the elevator doors opened, the entire car was completely filled with boxes. "What? JARVIS, is this stuff Tony ordered?"

"No, sir. This is your order. There are eleven boxes from Amazon, and two boxes from the optometrist."

"Oh my god. I didn't order all of this!" Steve grabbed the closest box and ripped the tape off. Inside was a sixty piece oil pastel set. "Oh no, no, no, JARVIS I didn't order this."

"It was in your shopping cart, sir. At the end of the week, I order everything queued up."

"Shit. No, no. This wasn't meant to be ordered. Oh god, oh no. JARVIS, you have to send it back."

"Unfortunately, most of these items are ordered through third-party marketplace and I'll have to file for refunds with each one. They'll send return boxes, but it likely won't go through until late next week. I'll begin the process."

"No, wait." All the return charges would draw more attention than one large charge. And Tony was expecting him to order things to redo his rooms, so maybe if he bought room paint, fabrics, that kind of thing, on his own, and told Tony this charge was for that, he could hide the art supplies in his sitting room and Tony would never know. "It's okay. I've got it."

Steve stacked up as many boxes as he could and carted them back to his sitting room. He piled them in the corner. The two smallest boxes from the optometrist were last. Steve took them to his bathroom and pulled the tape off. In one were nestled two pairs of glasses, and the other had contacts, solution, and a case. The glasses came with a black, microfibre cloth. Steve unfolded the glasses and pushed them on his face, looking up in the mirror.

"Wow."

There were so many  _ details.  _ He could see a couple of freckles dotted across his cheeks, and the tiny print on the toothpaste tube. The fake plant in the corner had leaves instead of just vague, green blobs. 

"Holy shit."

Steve spent the next hour walking around the apartment, looking at everything he could with the new glasses on. He took a book off his shelf and he could read it without leaning over it and squinting. It was like he'd been teleported to a new world where everything looked completely different.

"Wow." Steve sat down on the edge of his futon. His eyes slid over to the boxes he hadn't unpacked. One of the things in his cart had been a sketchbook… and coloured pencils. His fingers itched to try and put this new world down on paper. He knew his attempt wouldn't live up to it - all he'd managed so far were the doodles and pen sketches he'd amassed over the years, on whatever scraps of paper he could find, but now he  _ wanted.  _

It wouldn't matter, right? He needed to keep the stuff anyway, or at least most of it. Really, he knew he ought to find another way to sell it, to help pay off the supplies he was going to need to redecorate, but would one sketchbook and a few pencils really make a difference?

He rummaged through the boxes, ripping off the tape and making stacks of items, until he found the simple, black, ringed sketchbook. The plastic had already torn around the spine, so he picked at it until it fell away and he could open the cover. The paper inside was thick and heavy, with a rough texture that he could feel under his fingers, begging for layers and layers of colour on top of it. The pencils packed in with it were heavy too, sharpened into perfect points, with every shade he could possibly imagine.

Steve set the point of the pencil to the paper.

When he blinked back into reality, the windows were dark and JARVIS had turned on the lights. Steve's back ached from sitting on the floor so long and he groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. He flipped back through the pages he'd filled. They weren't very accurate, but he couldn't help but thrill at the result anyway. He'd  _ made  _ these. With his own hand. His art, not just photographs of someone else's art in a book. His. 

The rush was incredible. It was so incredible that when he woke up the next morning in time for his shift at the library, Steve didn't call in sick. He tucked his new sketchbook, his wallet, keys, and both phones into his bag, put on his jacket and walked right out of the tower. 

He half expected JARVIS to try and stop him, but the elevator doors opened and closed again without comment. Steve booked it to the subway and took a seat as it rattled and screeched its way across town. 

As soon as Steve stepped into the library, he felt like himself again. It was like everything from the last week had never happened - he was just Steve Rogers, living in his tiny Brooklyn walkup, working at the Omega Library. He was nervous, at first, that whatever "announcement" Tony had put out on his first night at the tower would have been seen, but it was likely in the kind of paper that his coworkers wouldn't read, and besides, there had to be hundreds of Steve Rogers in the city. It would never occur to anyone that someone like Tony Stark would bond with someone like him.

No one knew his entire life had been flipped upside down, so everyone treated him the same as always. The books were the same, the faulty tap in the bathroom was the same. The computer system dying was the same. Despite his brand new inhalers, this was the first time he was able to draw in a full breath since the selection letter had come. He had four compliments on his new glasses, but no one asked him how he could possibly afford them, and the headache that usually kicked in about two hours into squinting at the Dewey Decimal System never came.

Steve shoved his bag in the breakroom and focused on work, re-shelving with single-minded intensity, only interrupted by occasional visitors asking for directions to the gardening section or the new fiction. It was wonderfully, blissfully simple.

On the subway, on his way back to Grand Central, Steve pulled out a sheet of paper and started composing a letter to Bucky. He wouldn't be able to send it, Bucky had no registered omega and it'd cause problems with his unit-mates if he got anything from Steve, but he still wrote him once a week or so. When Bucky got back, Steve would give him all the letters and then he wouldn't have to remember all the things he needed to catch him up on.

He got as far as describing the formal living room in the penthouse when the train screeched to a halt at his stop. He shoved the letter down in his bag and shuffled up the stairs with everyone else. He was the only one to push through the huge, rotating glass door into Stark Tower though, the only one to get on the private elevator. 

Tonight, he needed to take a full catalog of the art supplies and figure out what on earth he was going to do with them, but first, he was going to see if his new book had finally come in. It wasn't in the elevator, though, which was a disappointment. Steve leaned against the wall of the elevator car as it hummed up nearly a hundred stories. The doors slid open, and Steve stepped out. He turned the corner towards the stairs and froze in place. 

Tony was sitting at the dining room table, containers of food spread out in front of him, two places set. He had his phone in his hand, but he looked up when he saw Steve. "Oh. There you are."

Steve couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding so loudly it was all he could hear.  _ Oh god, oh god.  _ Tony was there, at the table, clearly waiting for Steve. And Steve had been at his  _ job.  _ A job he absolutely wasn't supposed to have and hadn't told Tony about.  _ Oh god.  _

"I'm -" he choked out.

Tony's brow furrowed. "Do you need your inhaler?" He stood and started crossing the room, but Steve held out a hand. 

"I'm okay," he managed. "I'm - I'm sorry. I didn't -" He dug out his inhaler anyway and took a hit.

Tony held his phone up again. "I was just texting you."

Steve's heart stopped again. Fuck, his phone. He hadn't checked it for  _ hours.  _ He dug the phone Tony had given him out of his pocket, leaving his other phone hidden at the bottom. It was dead, probably long dead. He'd completely forgotten to charge it the night before. "I'm so sorry, si- Tony. I'm sorry. It died."

Tony shrugged and sat back down at the table. "Well, in punishment -"

Steve's entire body winced right down to his soul, prepared for whatever Tony would dish out.

"- I've eaten all the pakoras. Sucks for you, they were really good. But I was starving. I forgot to eat lunch. Sit?" Tony flopped himself into a chair.

"Um."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Sorry. I'm fine." Steve sat down hard in the chair opposite Tony. "I'll remember to charge it."

Tony gave him an odd look then gestured at the table. "I hope you like Indian."

"Uh. Yes, please." Steve had never actually had Indian, but it smelled good, and he wasn't picky. Food was food.

Tony pushed containers towards him, naming them all, but Steve didn't retain any of the information; all he could hear was the endless cycle of panic spiralling through his brain. Tony's eyes didn't move away from him. "I made sure there wasn't anything in it you're allergic to."

"Oh. Thank you." Steve stuck a spoon in the rice and started shovelling on his plate, just to give him something to do.

That seemed to appease Tony, who did the same on the other side of the table. "So. I thought we should talk."

Steve nodded, copying Tony who was making little piles of goop around a centre pile of rice. This was where Tony was going to ask him where he'd been all day, why he wasn't doing whatever it was he was supposed to be doing, why he hadn't looked at fabric samples or - or - or maybe he knew about the suppressants.

"How - uh - how are things going?" Tony asked, instead.

"Um." Steve poked a cube of meat out of the goop and into the rice. "Fine."

"You have everything you need?"

"Sure." Plus several hundred dollars of art supplies he really didn't need.

"Okay, good. Good." Tony started eating. Was that - was that the whole "talk"?

Steve put the cube of meat in his mouth and his eyebrows shot up. It actually tasted pretty good. He didn't have a great sense of smell - another reason why he was a useless omega - so the spice was a surprise, but it was creamy and sweet as well, and the meat turned out to be chicken.

"I should tell you why I chose to bond, shouldn't I?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Well. I'd certainly appreciate it si- Tony. If you don't mind. You said you had a problem, and I'd like to help in any way I can."

Tony took a heavy breath like he was preparing himself for something difficult, and Steve set his fork back down, the anxiety churning in his stomach taking up too much space to leave room for food. "This is going to sound egotistical, but I just need to know your context - what do you know about me? You know who I am, right?"

Steve nodded. "I know you own Stark Industries. You make weapons. Or - you used to, until recently. And… you -"

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him. "Know how to have fun?"

"Um. Right."

Tony sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "You know I took a trip to Afghanistan three months ago that ended up being longer than intended?"

"Oh. Yes. That was on the news. You got sick and they couldn't fly you back until you were better."

"That's… not what happened."

"Oh." Steve was saying  _ oh  _ too much. Didn't he have anything else to say?

"I was attacked, kidnapped. They tried to make me build weapons for them. I wouldn't. They… hurt me. I came back a little fucked up." Tony's hand twitched up off his lap, towards his chest, then fell again.

_ Oh.  _ Steve kept his mouth shut this time, waiting.

"I also learned some things while I was there. Things I didn't like. So I came back with ideas. And the board, well… they're not always thrilled about ideas. I was a flighty, irresponsible playboy when I left, and I was a flighty, irresponsible shipwreck when I got back. I need to convince the board that I'm steady, stable, and that the moves I want to make are good moves - good for the company, but also necessary. Including taking our direction away from weapons."

Steve fiddled with the edge of his napkin. "But you could have any omega. Couldn't you just… you know. Meet someone?"

Tony scratched the back of his neck. "Not quite… I can't - I can't - there are things I can't do anymore. I can't be… a traditional alpha." His ears were colouring. "I thought, you know, maybe someone off the registry… give you a break or whatever. But you don't have to worry about me taking advantage of the situation. You're totally free to do what you want."

"As long as it makes you look good?"

"Well… I mean.  _ Yes -  _ I guess. Please don't get caught shooting up in a back alley or something. But just the fact that I've chosen to settle down with someone, instead of continuing my playboy ways, that's what really matters. And um -" Tony looked away. "And this way you can get a safe place to live and food and medicine and stuff, right?"

"Sure…" Steve felt an urge to thank Tony, or least an obligation to, but he kept his jaw locked tight, swallowing the words back down. But when silence hung for too long, there was something he couldn't hold back. "Do you - do you mind if I ask a question?"

"Course not. Shoot."

"Of all the people on the registry, why did you pick me?"

Tony looked up at him, startled, like it was the last question he was expecting. "Uhh. Yeah. Well - I mean, you seemed like you could use a hand. I saw your medical history."

"Right. Okay." That explained a lot. Almost everything, really. Steve poked at his food again.

"Also -" Tony cut himself off. But when Steve looked at him expectantly, he smiled. "You were wearing a Right to Read campaign t-shirt."

"What? No I wasn't." They used the same picture as his ID card for the registry and he looked at it every day. "I'm wearing a white button-down." He pulled out his wallet and dug out the card. Sure enough, it was a stiff, white shirt.

Tony laughed. "The quality of the one on the online registry is better." He took out his phone and started typing. "You were wearing a white button down, but a t-shirt underneath instead of an undershirt. With the way the lighting was, I could see through it." He handed his phone over and Steve's own face was looking back. Sure enough, with the HD screen, he could see through his shirt to the one underneath and the very top of the Right to Read logo was visible. 

"Oh." There was that word again. "Sorry." He wasn't sure why he was apologizing. "Wait - that made you  _ want  _ to pick me?"

"Sure. I love RTR. I donate to Omega Reads every month. I was a lonely, too-smart-for-his-own-good kid, growing up in a world of disinterested adults. Books saved me. I'm an inventor, Steve, sharing knowledge is kind of my jam. I thought…" He cleared his throat. "Thought maybe it'd give us something to talk about?"

"I have a job!" Steve burst out, immediately regretting it. Tony looked up sharply. "At the omega library in Brooklyn. I got it when I was volunteering with RTR. That's where I was today. I know I have no right to ask, and I'm sure you don't want me working there, especially if all of this is - uh - for the press. So… I can quit, but please would you mind if I went down and told them myself in person? I've worked there for four years. I'm -" Steve's eyes were brimming up at the thought.

Tony blinked at him. "Why would I want you to quit?"

"Well, it's not very… seemly is it? To have your bonded omega working at a library. By himself?"

Tony shrugged. "You like it, though? You want to keep it?"

"Yes. I love it. I can go down to one shift a week, I just - Yes I'd like to keep it."

"Then keep it. If they give you any trouble, I'll just make a big enough donation that they have to do what I say. Then I'll make them keep you on." Tony beamed at him.

"Oh, no… Thanks, but I'd like to keep it myself. If that's okay. They seem to like my work, and if that changes, then they  _ should  _ let me go."

Tony chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "But it makes you happy?"

"Yes, sir, it does. Tony. Very happy."

"Then stay. Who am I to tell you to quit?"

_ My alpha?  _ Steve thought, but didn't say. "Thank you." It should have lessened his anxiety, but it didn't, instead, Steve just felt braced for the other hand. 

Tony turned back to his food. "Tell me more about you. I guess - no family, right?"

That would have been the first thing listed on Steve's registry file. "No… no family. My father joined the army and didn't come back. My mother died of lung cancer a few years ago. They were both only children and their parents are long gone. No family. Just my best friend and he joined the army too. I haven't seen him in a while."

"Sorry," Tony murmured. "My best friend's Air Force. I get it."

"Otherwise… uh. I read a lot, which I guess you knew. I really like working at the library. To be honest, most of my life has just been trying to survive. I don't have any hobbies or anything." He shrugged. 

"Well, now you can. If you want. I mean, pick up a hobby. You can do whatever you want."

"I - what do you mean by that?" Steve finally asked, exasperated. "Whatever I want? I just - I don't want to disappoint you. So I was hoping you could… clarify."

"Disappoint… yeah, no, when I say do whatever you want, I mean just live your life. Do what you'd normally do, but with, like, proper inhalers and nice food. All that cooking and cleaning and standing on ceremony and calling me alpha, bullshit, I don't need that. I just want you to be yourself."

_ I was being myself, before you came along.  _ And surely Tony didn't really mean that. He meant "be yourself within the confines of what I expect an omega to be," and the unfair part of that was that Steve had no idea what someone like Tony Stark would expect of an omega. Where Steve came from, there was a lot less nonsense - no one could afford it. But from what he'd seen on TV, celebrity alphas experienced life very differently. Already, Steve had seen how crazy that could be, how indulgent and wasteful, but also how rigid and controlled. 

"Okay. I mean, I can do that. I'm not sure I can make you look good, but I can try."

"You'll be great," Tony said, almost idly, like he was thinking of something else. "Anyway… So you were at work today?"

"Yes, si- Tony. I was at work."

"Anything interesting happen?"

"Not really." Steve tried to pick at his food.

"Were they uh - happy for you?"

Steve popped a piece of chicken in his mouth to cover his lack of an answer. Once he'd chewed and swallowed he nodded. "Sure." It wasn't a complete lie. They were happy he had glasses.

Tony dragged his naan through the remains of his curry. "Do you want to have a bonding party?"

That sounded truly horrific. A bunch of Tony's rich friends expecting Steve to be something he wasn't. "I'm sure you're really busy," Steve managed, not wanting to be rude.

Tony just hummed and went back to his food. They managed to finish dinner in almost comfortable silence. It was the quietest Steve had ever seen his alpha, and he took the opportunity to steal a few studious glances. Tony looked worried, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes from stress not laughter, and his eyes kept flicking to his phone. 

When their plates were clear, Tony cleared his throat and stood, snapping lids back on the containers, and Steve hastened to help, nearly knocking over his water glass in his rush. "Sorry."

Tony leaned over the table to grab the rice container and it pressed him almost up against Steve's side, making his breath catch. Tony smelled like burnt coconut and curry, and Steve had to resist the urge to lean in and breathe it in deeper. There was a metallic edge to his scent that Steve hadn't noticed before.

Tony picked up the rice and leaned back, his eyes cutting over to Steve. He reached out with one finger and pushed his new glasses up his nose. "These are cute."

"They're new," Steve breathed. Tony had never been so close to him. No alpha besides Bucky had. Not like this.

"I like them."

"They gave me contacts too, but I've never put them in before. The glasses are good though."

"Yeah, contacts can be weird at first. I can show you how, sometime, if you want."

Steve nodded and Tony smiled, the heart-stopping smile that had made him People's Most Eligible Alpha four years in a row. Steve swallowed heavily. He couldn't deny that Tony was the kind of alpha that might end up on the cover of one of his romance novels. Tony picked up the stack of curries and went to the fridge, taking the heavy aura that had settled over Steve with him.

It hardly mattered how attractive Tony was because he wasn't interested in Steve like that. He just needed an omega - any omega - to make him look respectable and he'd chosen Steve because he felt sorry for him. Steve's hand tracked the path Tony's had made, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

Tony closed the fridge door. "I have to go back to work."

"Okay."

"You're alright, right?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Thank you for dinner."

"Of course. There's lots of leftovers." Tony waved vaguely towards the fridge. "Oh! There was a package for you." Tony hustled over to the sideboard and came back with the flat, cardboard box.

The back of Steve's neck ignited and he bit the inside of his cheeks, heart pounding. "Thank you. It's a book," he added hastily. "On interior design."

"Cool. Well. Goodnight." Tony considered him for a long moment, brow furrowed, then nodded to himself and walked off, disappearing down the stairs towards his workshop.

Steve hovered in the kitchen for a while, but there wasn't anything for him to do, the dishes already in the dishwasher and the leftovers put away, so he went up to his room, the box clasped in his arms.

God. Tony had ordered dinner for them and Steve had been  _ late  _ because he was at a job he wasn't supposed to have, he'd let his phone die so Tony couldn't get a hold of him, he'd ordered books he shouldn't have and then lied about it. And Tony had told him his glasses were cute.

Fuck.

Steve closed the door to the sitting room and pushed the heavy book box in front of it then he ripped open the package Tony had given him. Inside was the second book of the Pirate's Heart series. Steve slid it out and ran his hand over the cover. It was so slick and smooth, completely unblemished. He peeled open the cover and it resisted his pull. Instead of smelling like mold and must, it smelled like glue and paper, fresh. 

Tony was too complicated to think about, but Sébastien and Maximillian were easy, simple. Steve turned out the overhead light, crawled under the covers on the futon, and turned to chapter one. The book opened with the couple shortly after they'd run away, hiding out on a beautiful, Caribbean island, enjoying each other.

_ "I love you," Sébastien whispered into Max's ear, his breath like silk against his skin. _

_ "I love you too." Max ran his thumb along his beautiful alpha's rugged jaw. "Make love to me?" _

_ "Always." _

Steve's skin heated as he read on, Max kissing his way down Sébastien's chest towards his throbbing bulge. When Max pulled his alpha's cock free, Steve gasped and a rush of slick coated his thighs. He was rock hard under the covers and his hand itched to snake down and wrap around himself. He'd done it before, quite a lot actually, and he assumed that any alpha taking on an omega his age wouldn't be that surprised to hear it. But to do something like that in Tony's own house? When Steve should be tending to Tony's pleasure instead? That felt a bit too far.

But Tony didn't want him. He'd made that perfectly clear.  _ You don't have to worry about me taking advantage of the situation.  _ Because Steve was a charity case, not an indulgence. Tony had picked him because he was pathetic and helpless and it would make Tony feel good to buy him proper inhalers. That was probably what he actually meant by the glasses. Not that Steve looked good in them, but that he was "cute" in the way a lost puppy missing a leg was cute when the shelter gave him a bath and got rid of the fleas. No stylish frames could make an omega like Steve attractive to a rich, powerful, beautiful alpha like Tony.

Eyes stinging for no reason he could discern - what did he care what Tony Stark thought of him anyway? He wanted to be left alone - Steve turned back to his book and forced himself to get lost in Max and Sébastien's world. He didn't look at the clock as he devoured his way through chapter after chapter, and he staunchly ignored the way his pulse pounded low in his gut every time the alpha and omega touched each other, but he was sweaty and breathless when he finally turned the last page. 

He rolled over onto his back and clicked off his little lamp, his erection tenting the blanket, barely visible in the light from the alarm clock. That was the kind of life he wanted to live: wild and adventurous and full of love and sex and yearning.

"Hey, JARVIS?" he whispered to the ceiling.

"Yes, sir?"

If Tony said he didn't care what Steve did, then Steve was going to do whatever he wanted, consequences be damned. "Order the rest of the series, please."


	4. Chapter 4

Tony didn't show in the penthouse all weekend, and Steve spent most of it reading his books and organizing the art supplies. He'd decided to keep them all and buy the supplies to redesign his room himself, so hopefully Tony wouldn't notice. The art supplies had been six hundred and forty-five dollars, and Steve wasn't sure what his budget for decorating was supposed to be, but without needing to pay his rent, he could afford to pay back the art supplies with two more paycheques.

A chink in that plan appeared Monday morning, when Steve went down to the kitchen and found all the leftovers gone. It seemed that whatever shadowy, secretive cleaning service Tony hired had cleaned the fridge in the night and all that remained was a fresh batch of the expensive, bottled smoothies. Steve stood with the fridge door open, staring forlornly at its emptiness then realized he was pumping cold air out into the kitchen and slammed it shut again. 

Well, it was inevitable that he'd have to figure out the food thing, he'd just been hoping it would be Future Steve's problem for a little longer. He went back up to his room and pulled a blank sheet out of one of his sketchbooks. He sat on the floor of his sitting room with his phone in calculator mode and his tablet logged into his bank account. 

"JARVIS, what is Tony's weekly food budget?" Steve figured if he did the shopping, first of all, Tony wouldn't have to, and second of all, Steve could carefully math out how much to spend on himself. Tony had said he could buy food, and of course it should be his responsibility to do the shopping and cooking, but Tony didn't actually seem to  _ eat  _ very much, which was the tricky bit. 

The question, however, seemed to flummox JARVIS. "Mr. Stark does not have a set budget for food," he replied. 

Steve huffed. That certainly made it harder. He didn't want to suddenly throw off the system Tony'd had for years, and he didn't want to swan in and become this huge expense. Tony would see that having Steve around cost him more than it gained him, and he'd dump him as soon as things at work were better. Steve also had the problem that he hadn't bought anything with Tony's money that JARVIS hadn't just ordered. "Does Tony have cash set aside for me to use?" Steve tried instead. Maybe Tony would leave Steve's allowance in cash for him, and he could buy groceries with as little of it as possible and save the rest. He had to toe the line very carefully with that. If he didn't spend enough on Tony's food, he'd notice the quality of what he was eating going down, but if he spent too much, he wouldn't be able to set aside an emergency fund.

JARVIS hesitated for a moment. "There is a supply of cash in the top drawer of the desk in Mr. Stark's personal office, the room to the left of his bedroom. You are welcome to help yourself."

"Okay." That would have to do. Steve put on his jacket and went down the hall towards Tony's room. He'd never seen inside, beyond peeking through the cracked door enough to know that was what it was. The door next to it was closed. "This door?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm allowed to go in?"

"Yes, sir, of course. No part of the penthouse is off limits to you."

_ Sure. Except Tony's room.  _ Steve opened the door and found a formal office with a desk, a computer, a filing cabinet, and a bookshelf full of business books. It looked distinctly unused. In the top drawer of Tony's desk was a book of cheques, a few opened envelopes with paper shoved in them, and an envelope of cash. Steve thumbed through it. "Holy shit." It had to be at least a thousand dollars. Maybe it was to cover expenses for everything for the whole month. Tony was rich, of course, and Steve didn't doubt that he spent a lot of money every month, but he wouldn't let Steve just take a thousand dollars, surely? And in cash, he wouldn't be able to trace what Steve spent it on.

Feeling overwhelmed again, Steve counted out a hundred dollars and put the rest of the money back. He wanted to get nice food for Tony, but he didn't even know what he'd do with more than that. He found his grocery bags, shoved up at the bottom of one of the boxes from the movers, and folded them into his backpack. It probably wasn't unreasonable for him to ask Happy to drive him to the store - or at least back from it - but he was probably busy with other things.

"JARVIS, where is the nearest grocery store?"

"Mr. Stark's supplies come from the Trader Market on 6th. I can order supplies to be delivered if you provide me with a list."

"No, that's okay. I'm going to do it myself."

"As you wish, sir."

Steve wrote the address down on a slip of paper and put it in his pocket, then took the elevator down to the street. It still felt weird, to step out of the elevator into the real world, looking the same as he always had, but feeling entirely different. The people who bustled by didn't offer him a second glance, but he was  _ Tony Stark's omega,  _ now. It was like his insides had been carved out and this other person had been poured in, but he didn't know that person yet. 

He pulled his hat down low over his face and set off down the street. The grocery store turned out to be only a few blocks away, one quarter of a looming low-rise, multi-use commercial space. He had to take another elevator up above the parking structure to enter the store itself, and as soon as he did, he shuffled to a stop.

This was nothing like the bodega on the corner he used to stop at on the way home from work, buying a stale loaf of white bread and a cucumber. The ceiling was so far away, he wondered at how they changed the light bulbs. The store was divided into many sections, each with their own theme. Just from where he stood, at the entrance, he could see a specialty cupcake counter, four delis, an olive bar the size of his last apartment, and a pizzeria. This wasn't a grocery store… it was a grocery theme park.

Still, Steve had made a plan and he was going to stick to it. One of his favourite foods his mother had taught him to make was beef stew. Hopefully Tony would like it, and it'd be relatively cheap to make. Steve shuffled through the shoppers until he found the vegetable section. He picked up a bundle of carrots and checked the price sign, blanching when he saw it was  _ seven dollars  _ for a small bundle of three, thin carrots. Steve looked around helplessly, hoping there were other, cheaper carrots somewhere, but he didn't see any. 

Dutifully, he took his phone out of his pocket and started to keep track. Not long later, he was already pushing the edges of the hundred dollars he'd taken from Tony's cash, and he still needed the beef itself and some basic staples. Everything at this store was  _ so expensive  _ and no one seemed to care, piling their carts high with organic lemons and pre-made salsa and specialty meat cuts. When he asked for the cheapest cut of beef at the meat counter, the butcher eyed him up, eyebrow lifting, and Steve resisted the urge to pluck at his clothes, feeling dirty and unwelcome.

But he made it through shopping, choosing the least expensive cereal, a small milk that he could stretch longer with water, and a few bananas for himself. The total came to $137 according to his phone. It was the most he'd ever spent at the grocery store, and it ached, but he had no choice. He had to show Tony he could do this, be good at this.

At the register, the chipper, beta cashier asked him if he wanted to donate two dollars to a children's charity and he nodded, even though it was two dollars he'd didn't have.

He loaded as many bags as he could into his backpack then hoisted the others up into his arms. The cashier watched him nervously, as if she expected him to tumble to the floor in a mess of celery and potatoes, but he managed to get the bags steady and set off for the escalators back down to the street. Halfway home, he was regretting not calling Happy. The plastic handles dug into his hands and his shoulders were sweating and chafing under the backpack straps.

When the tower came into view, Steve cheered silently, even though it was visible from quite a ways away. He pushed through the last half block then stumbled into the elevator, dropping all his bags and sitting down for the short ride up. His lungs were aching, tightening in his chest, and he tugged his rescue inhaler out and took a hit, trying to breathe slowly. 

The elevator doors waited patiently for him to stand up and lug the bags into the apartment one by one. The penthouse was exactly as he'd left it. Tony's lack of presence made living in the tower feel less like intruding and more like staying at a fancy hotel every day. It wasn't exactly comfortable, not quite private, but he was alone most of the time, and no seemed to care what he did, as long as he wasn't drawing on the walls or setting anything on fire. 

But the truth was, he was kind of wishing Tony  _ would  _ care what he did. Not a lot, not enough to reel back Steve's freedoms, but maybe just enough to thank Steve for doing the laundry or to ask him how his day went or  _ anything,  _ because the potted plant by the TV had stopped being much of a conversationalist once Steve figured out it was fake. 

Weirdly, Steve hadn't really had much more human contact before his move to Stark Tower. Since Bucky left, all he'd had was his job three or four days a week, the people he bumped into on the subway, and the cashier at the bodega he shopped at. But he'd lived alone, so it felt expected, or something. Now he lived with someone, he had an alpha, but he was just as alone, maybe even more so.

"At least I've got you, JARVIS," he said, laying out vegetables on the counter.

"Quite," JARVIS replied.

Making the stew turned out to be fairly soothing. Steve was no genius at cooking but he was comfortable in the kitchen, had been feeding himself for a long time, and had a solid list of go-to recipes that he could whip up without any trouble. Tony's supplies were obviously a hundred times nicer than his, but it was a blessing not a curse to deglaze the bottom of a gorgeous Le Creuset then set it simmering. Soon, the whole apartment smelled like cooking meat, warm and hearty, and Steve hovered around the main floor nervously, wondering when Tony would show for dinner.

But he didn't show.

Steve reminded JARVIS twice to let Tony know he had extra food, but when it started to go cold and still no Tony, he ate what he could and packed up the rest, stacking containers in the fridge. 

Two entire days went by without Steve seeing anyone at all. A holiday Monday meant he missed a shift at the library, so if the trend from Tony continued, he wouldn't be likely to see another human for a week if he had no reason to go out. His grocery budget depleted, Steve lived off the leftovers from the stew and a few nonperishable items he'd picked up on the last trip. He also took stock of a secondary freezer he found in the pantry - that was so sleekly integrated into the cabinetry that he'd thought it was a linen cupboard at first - and found some frozen microwave meals.

Steve's second try at luring Tony upstairs with food was turkey barley soup, and when no Tony appeared, he got reckless and took his easel down to the living room to paint the sunset. It was a serious tempting of fate, showing off his pilfered art supplies so recklessly, and every noise made him yelp and jump, but Tony didn't show.

He turned on the news in the background while he drew his brush across the canvas in slow, careful strokes. It wasn't turning out great, but the colours were vivid - expensive paints certainly seemed worth it - and there was something soothing and softening about the methodicalness of layering the strokes. 

_ "A disturbance near the town of Gulmira has military police investigating a new piece of tech. The red and gold painted body armour appears to have extraordinary flight and weapons capabilities. This footage, caught by a local, shows the obvious humanoid shape, though it's still not yet clear if the weapon is manned or merely a drone, controlled remotely. The air force wouldn't comment when contacted, but social media website 'reddit' has dubbed the armour 'Iron Man' and this image has been making its rounds on the internet." _

Steve realized he'd paused to look at the first shot of the thing and never gone back to painting, staring at the TV. Iron Man. Huh. It certainly looked like a man, inside some sort of suit of armour. And it could fly. Maybe it was a drone - that thing looked like it would be terrifying to pilot. 

Steve supposed it wouldn't be long before the plane - if it could be called that - was brought down and its owner arrested. If the internet had named it already, though, they'd certainly be disappointed. He turned back to his painting and laughed softly. Red and gold armour - red and gold sunset. Maybe the Iron Man's owner had a similar aesthetic sense to his own.

When the sun was fully gone and Steve had nothing more to paint from, he packed everything up and took it upstairs, leaving the easel in the corner to dry. 

Later that night, tucked up in bed, Steve cracked the next book in his series. This one wasn't about Maximillian and Sébastien. This one was a sidestory, focusing on Remy, the omega Max had helped escape from his father's stables early in the first book. He took a job on a ship, posing as an alpha, but fell in love with the first mate, a handsome, fast-talking alpha who was firm but fair with his crew. 

A few chapters in, the alpha and the omega's feelings became too much and on a heated night crammed together in the ship's bunks, their instincts took over. Steve shifted, swallowing heavily as he devoured each word, arousal dripping steadily down his spine to pool in his core and heat between his legs. Slick leaked out, coating his thighs and soaking the sheets under him. Steve curled closer around his book, as if someone could peek over his shoulder and scandalize themselves. 

_ Remy threw his head back in a silent moan, the hot, relentless pressure of Theo sliding into him blooming inside him and setting every nerve alight.  _

Steve shoved his knuckle between his teeth. He was hard and yearning. What would it be like to be loved like that, so desperate and windswept and heartstopping? He imagined being swept off his feet, laid down as if he were something precious, and taken with such desperate, grasping need that he could have no doubt that he was everything in the world to his alpha.

Steve's body thrummed with need and he bit off another moan, rolling his hips to rub himself against the soft sheets as Theo and Remy approached their climax. It took three re-reads of the last four paragraphs to help him over the edge, but he finally came with a choked off cry, making a mess of his sheets.

"Oh shit," he huffed out, struggling to catch his breath again. He closed the book and tossed it aside, too swimming with a dopey post-orgasmic glow to focus on reading any more.

But when he rolled over, he put his hip in the cold damp patch he'd made and he kept rolling, right out of bed, with a groan. There was no way he was sleeping in that. 

He stripped the sheets into a pile next to his easel then spread a new set over the bed. He sighed down at the dirtied ones. He knew he could put them in the laundry basket and the service would take care of them, but even he could tell they reeked, and the last thing he needed was to be stinking up his sitting room so much with his needy, omega desperation, that Tony would be able to smell it four floors down. He'd also mostly been doing his own laundry, not knowing if Tony had to pay more for the service to do his as well or not. 

He gathered the sheets in a ball and slipped out of his room. 

There was a laundry room on the lowest floor of the penthouse, level with Tony's workshop, but a left at the bottom of the stairs instead of a right. Steve stepped lightly down the steps, but at the bottom, he paused. The windows of Tony's workshop were frosted, but he could still see the light glowing through them, and there was a low, soft thump in his chest from music playing inside. Steve hung there for a long time, transfixed somehow by Tony's presence on the other side of the door.

"Is there something you need from Mr. Stark?" JARVIS asked gently, and Steve startled against the far wall.

He sprinted for the laundry room, nearly tripping over the dangling edge of one of the sheets. "Nope! No. It's fine. I'm fine." God, what if Tony had come out of his workshop and found Steve standing there, staring at his door, arms full of sheets that stunk of omega arousal.

He shoved the sheets in the washer and started it going then creeped his way back up. He hesitated at the kitchen, wondering what Tony would do if he heated up some of the leftovers and brought them right to him, but it was three in the morning, and Tony was unlikely to be hungry. He also almost certainly thought Steve was asleep and maybe wouldn't appreciate that he wasn't. 

Besides, he had a bed to remake. And honestly, he probably smelled a little… obvious, after his steamy evening. He scuttled back upstairs and pulled fresh sheets out of the linen closet to remake his futon. He was tired, and he eyed the huge, perfectly made bed in his bedroom, but ultimately, he still went into his sitting room and threw sheets and a blanket over his futon. 

He lay in bed, trying to find sleep again, and realized that at some point he'd stopped putting the box in front of his door. He couldn't quite put his finger on whether it was that he trusted Tony, trusted JARVIS, or just that Tony was so absent in the apartment that he'd stopped feeling like his alpha was even there. 

His alpha. It still didn't feel quite right. To think that, to say that. Steve's concept of  _ my alpha  _ had always been the same as Remy, in his book. One of owning and belonging, need and desire, happiness. He'd always thought that bonding would feel like being completed. But instead, he was living in this huge penthouse with a ghost, and try as he might, he couldn't even be a good omega in any of the other ways, like cooking or cleaning. How could he show Tony he was worth keeping, if Tony wouldn't notice him, wouldn't eat his food? What if that meant there was only one thing he could provide for Tony? The one thing he really didn't want to give.

Or, even worse, what if Tony wasn't going to keep him at all?

Steve allowed himself the brief hope that Tony's late night might mean he would seek out a snack in the main kitchen and indulge in some of what Steve had slaved over that evening. But the next morning, Steve peeked in the fridge to find his latest attempt at feeding Tony had been ignored, along with the others. He reheated leftovers, guilt yawning in his stomach at the thought of the cleaning crew throwing away even more perfectly good meals. He'd have to freeze them before that happened.

"JARVIS," Steve sighed around a mouthful of soup, "what is Tony's favourite food?"

"Mr. Stark hasn't expressed a singular favourite, but I do know he's fond of smoothies, sushi, and doughnuts, sir."

"Smoothies, sushi, and doughnuts," Steve echoed.

"Yes, sir."

Smoothies were out. They were always sitting there in the fridge, and Steve couldn't do any better than that. Sushi… he could buy. But all he knew about it was that it was expensive and you had to eat it fresh. He'd probably buy all the wrong things and just embarrass himself. But maybe doughnuts… He'd never made them before, didn't know how, but if he went light on the shopping for the next two weeks, he could probably afford a box of doughnuts from a bakery. "Where does Tony like to get his doughnuts?"

"Mr. Stark's preference is for Randy's Doughnuts in California, but if you're looking for something a little closer to home, All You Knead is three blocks west."

"Okay. Perfect. I can do that."

Steve counted out the change he had left from his last grocery run, added it to his current bank balance, subtracted his upcoming phone bill and the amount he'd need for next week's basic groceries, and decided it was doable. He put on his backpack and a light jacket, since the weather was shifting, and set off down the street. 

All You Knead was a chic, modern pastry shop with a specialty in doughnuts. It was the kind of place he and Bucky would have made fun of a few years ago, if they'd had any reason at all to end up in a neighbourhood like this. Steve adjusted his jacket, ever aware that he didn't look like he belonged there, and pushed inside. 

JARVIS hadn't specified a certain flavour, so Steve walked along the long, glass case, peering at his options. Some were expected - vanilla with spiral sprinkles, chocolate dip - but most were entirely unexpected. There was a Guinness flavoured one, a complicated salted caramel concoction with whole caramels stuck on top, and something called "Pretzel Party." It was completely overwhelming, but also inescapably tantalizing. The whole shop smelled sweet and sugary, and each doughnut was a piece of art. It made Steve want to bring his sketchbook or a camera so he could paint them later, the vivid colours in the soft lights of the shop. 

He picked six, though it took almost twenty minutes and the help of a kind but somewhat amused, young beta working behind the counter. Steve wanted twelve, but they were scarily expensive, and if this experiment didn't pan out, he'd be living off nothing but doughnuts for three days, as it was. Six days would probably kill him. 

The worker boxed them up for him, taping it closed so the lid would stay on for his walk, and Steve carefully counted out his change for half the bill and used his debit card for the rest. He carried them home like he held a priceless, stained glass window in his arms. 

Back at the apartment, Steve set the doughnuts on the counter and asked JARVIS to walk him through making coffee in Tony's pristine, multi-jet espresso maker. He found a tray and put two mugs of coffee - though he knew he'd regret the caffeine in his, but there was no decaf in the house - and the box of doughnuts on it, then set off for the workshop. 

He stopped at the door and pulled in a deep breath. There was every chance Tony wouldn't let him in at all, let alone be willing to have coffee and doughnuts with him, but he couldn't keep waiting around alone in the huge, empty apartment for  _ something  _ to happen. Tony selected him. That had to mean something.

"JARVIS can you please knock for me?"

JARVIS didn't answer, but the door immediately sprung open, revealing Tony's workshop. Steve hadn't been back in it since the first night, and it took him a moment to recover his balance at the immensity of the space. When he finally got his bearings, he realized Tony was sitting at his desk, but he wasn't facing his computer, he was facing Steve, smiling placidly, and waiting, eyes on the tray, as if looking for an explanation. 

Which he certainly deserved.

"Hello," Steve said, his voice coming out rough. "Um. Sorry. You're probably busy, but I got doughnuts and - um - I thought you might want some coffee." Steve looked down at his tray instantly feeling incredibly stupid. He didn't even know how Tony took his coffee, and he hadn't thought to bring milk or sugar. He cleared his throat. "And doughnuts." It was too late to throw the coffee mugs behind him and pretend they'd never been there. Maybe Tony took his coffee black.

Tony just stared at him. 

"I can just leave it and go. Or take it. If you don't want it." Steve's feet started turning him back towards the escape of the stairs.

"No!" Tony leapt into motion, waving Steve into the workshop. "No, no. Good time for a break." 

Steve looked around and realized that all of Tony's screens were blank and there were no projects visible on his desk. It occurred to him that JARVIS had probably warned Tony that Steve was coming downstairs some time ago. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course." Tony gestured him towards the couch, and Steve set his tray down on the coffee table. Tony passed by the table then smoothly changed paths to cross the room to a small kitchenette. He pulled a small box out of the fridge and came back with it. It contained creamers and sugar packets, and Steve breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Tony peeled the lid off one of the creamers and poured it into the cup closest to him then offered the box to Steve who shook his head. He'd have to sip his coffee as slowly as possible as it was to stave off the jitters, so he'd better keep it as hot and bitter as possible. "So what have we got?"

Steve picked off the tape then pulled the lid off the doughnut box. He'd spent all that time picking the right flavours, but they were all wrong. Tony wouldn't like any of these. What had he been thinking?

But Tony hummed with pleasure. "Is that Oreo?"

"Yes." Steve pointed his way around the box with a shaking finger. "Oreo, Salted Caramel, Vanilla Sprinkle, Dark Chocolate Espresso, Banana Cream, and Key Lime."

"Amazing. Omegas first." Tony gestured towards the box.

"Oh. Um. I can't possibly…"

"What if we cut them all in half?" Tony offered, and Steve nodded, relieved. "Then we can try them all. Cause I gotta say, it would have broken my heart if you'd taken the caramel."

Steve couldn't stop the nervous giggle that leaked out of his throat. "Okay."

Tony found a knife in the kitchenette and cut through each doughnut. He picked up half the caramel and Steve took vanilla sprinkle. He picked one of the spiral sprinkles off, watching Tony take a bite out of the corner of his eye. Tony gave a little hum of pleasure and a knot in Steve's chest loosened.

"Damn, that's good." Tony shot him an unreadable look. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Steve held back his smile, dropping his eyes to his own doughnut again.

"You're going to eat too, right? You're not just holding that for show?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course." Steve was so focused on Tony eating he'd forgotten to care about his own doughnut. "I was just wondering how they get the sprinkles into spiral shapes."

Tony leaned over to look at Steve's doughnut, suddenly so close that Steve could smell him, feel heat radiating off of him. His shoulder squished against Steve's, firm and heavy, but somehow not oppressive. Tony smelled like coconut again, and Steve wondered if it was his shampoo or just the way he smelled. Or maybe it was one of the doughnuts. It didn't matter. There was no reason to wonder what Tony smelled like.

"Extrusion."

"What?" Steve gasped, his eyes fixed firmly on the side of Tony's face.

"The sprinkles. They're extruded. Through some kind of spiralizer. Then they cut them off into short bits as they come out. The doughnut shop must order them in."

"Oh."

Tony leaned back out of Steve's space, and Steve sucked in a deep breath, head spinning. There was no reason for Tony to have this effect on him. He was just another alpha. It hardly mattered that he was Steve's alpha because this bond wasn't real. Steve's body just didn't seem to have quite picked up on that yet. The only other alpha who would sit that close, lean in with that much comfort in Steve's space was Bucky, and Bucky was different. 

Thinking about Bucky didn't calm Steve's roiling emotions any. He missed him so desperately. This was exactly the type of situation where he needed his best friend's no-nonsense advice. Of course, he would have told Steve not to mouth off to Tony before they'd even met, and then maybe he wouldn't be trying so hard now to make up for it. It wasn't clear if he was succeeding. Tony seemed nice one moment and frustrated the next, along with perpetually distracted, but even in the nice moments, Steve got the impression Tony saw him more as a necessary annoyance than a partner of any kind.

Steve wondered if he should apologize again. 

Then he realized he was just sitting there holding his doughnut half and he'd promised Tony he'd eat. He shoved a huge bite in his mouth then struggled to chew, but Tony didn't look over at him, busy sipping his coffee and admiring the other artisan doughnuts. Steve choked down the rest of the bite, barely tasting it, then opened his mouth to apologize again after alll, when Tony spoke.

"Wanna see something cool?"

"Okay."

Tony took another half-doughnut and his coffee cup and set off across the workshop. Steve followed, leaving his food and drink. Knowing him, he'd manage to spill both on something vital and expensive and Tony would ship him to Greece where he'd have no job and no friends and no books. 

Tony typed a code into a keypad on the wall and the wall slid open, revealing an elevator. Tony gestured Steve inside then followed, hitting a button on the large, unlabelled panel in the corner. Thankfully, he didn't mention Steve's empty hands, chewing seemingly happily on his doughnut, and Steve tucked them into his pockets so as not to draw attention to them.

The elevator ride was quiet, except for Tony eating and sipping his coffee, and Steve tried to imagine what 'cool' thing Tony was going to show him. Was it something he thought was cool or something he thought Steve would think was cool? Surely, there wouldn't be a whole lot of overlap there. 

But then the doors opened and revealed a vast garage completely full to the gills with vintage cars and motorcycles, and Steve couldn't help but gasp. "Oh my god…"

Tony paused. "Do you like vintage cars?"

"I don't know much about them… but I guess so. When I was a kid I wanted to be a mechanic." Steve failed to mention that the mechanic phase of his childhood was entirely because he'd furtively read a book about an omega mechanic defying all cultural expectations and meeting the alpha of her dreams when she fixed his broken down car.

"Oh, yeah? Well, if you ever want to come down here and fiddle, be my guest."

Steve snorted. "Sure." He might even have rolled his eyes there.

Tony stilled, looking genuinely confused. "What?"

"I'm sure you don't want my omega hands all up in your priceless antiques. It's okay."

"They're just things, Steve. They don't matter. And JARVIS won't let you do anything dangerous." Tony studied him for a moment, intensely enough that Steve could feel his cheeks heating. "Come here." Tony crooked his finger and Steve crossed the garage floor to meet him. Tony pulled a cover away and revealed a beautiful motorcycle. "This is Olivia. Wanna sit on her?"

"Me?"

Tony smiled. "Who else would I be asking?"

"Okay."

Tony took his hand and helped Steve up on the seat of the bike. Tony's hand was big and warm and he didn't pull it away until Steve was fully settled. Steve couldn't help but notice how hot his one hand had become and how cold the other still was. Tony tapped the handlebars until Steve leaned forward and gripped them. He squeezed his thighs around the thick frame of the bike. It was so sturdy, there beneath him. It felt like caged power, and the anticipation of release thrummed inside him. "It's too messy in here to try it out, but someday we'll go out upstate and you can learn to ride, if you want to. I have some property out there."

Steve snapped his hands back from the handlebars like he'd been burned. "Teach me? To ride a motorcycle?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Maybe because it's illegal?"

Tony shrugged with a laugh. "Whatever."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "Where I come from, getting caught driving puts you in jail. And once you're in jail, you stay there. No job, no services, no alpha. You're fucked. I don't really think it's funny."

Tony tilted his head like a curious dog then nodded, sober now. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. But it's actually not illegal for omegas to drive on private property. And if you want a legal license, I can get you one. There's an exception program for alphas who can prove their omegas have legitimate need."

"I have a legitimate need? You have a chauffeur, Tony. And even if you didn't, I live in New York City. There's nowhere in the world I'm less likely to need to drive."

Tony leaned against the bike next to the one Steve was driving. "If omegas don't use the program, they'll assume it's not needed. Next time budgets need cutting, it'll go. And there are omegas out there who really do have legitimate need. You want to support omegas learning to drive? Show you want to drive."

"That might work for rich omegas with alphas to vouch for them, but what about all the unbonded omegas who can't get jobs to support themselves without driving? This program doesn't help them at all!" Steve threw his arms in the air and let them drop again. If he'd applied for a program like that six months ago, they would have thrown out his application with a laugh. "It's not fair."

"So you refusing to learn to drive is somehow going to help the other omegas who can't get licenses?"

"I didn't say that. Don't twist my words." Steve waggled a finger at Tony then stilled, realizing what he was doing. But when he rolled his eyes up from his hand to Tony's face, Tony was smiling.

"There he is."

"Um. Who?"

"The guy who demanded my name then called me demanding before we'd even met."

A prickly flush washed over Steve from head to foot and he dropped his hand to his side, curling his shoulders up. "Sorry." He tried to scramble off the bike, but it was too tall and he started to tip sideways, the handlebars now too far away to grab. He yelped, but strong arms caught him halfway off the seat and lifted him up, pulling his legs free before helping him to his feet. 

"You okay?"

Steve just nodded, afraid if he started to speak, he'd also start to cry. He'd finally managed a halfway decent moment with Tony, back with the doughnuts and coffee, and of course he had to ruin it by being, well, himself.

"I like that guy," Tony said quietly.

"Pardon?" Steve squeaked out.

"The mouthy guy who shows up now and again. The guy who wears a Right to Read shirt to OS offices. The guy who put 'being obnoxious' as one of his hobbies on the registry description. The guy who criticized bond estate law within ten minutes of finding out he was going to be bonded. The guy who just told me not to put words in his mouth." Tony reached out and tapped Steve lightly on the forehead. "I like that guy. You don't have to apologize."

"It's not a very attractive quality in an omega," Steve muttered. "Not being able to hold your tongue."

Tony opened his mouth then closed it again, his expression going weirdly pinched. Then Steve remembered his job here wasn't to be attractive to Tony, it was to make him look good, stable, bonded. A family man. Trustable. Not a wild, single thing. That was his job. 

"I won't do that in front of the press. Or other people."

Tony bit his lip then sighed. "Don't worry. No one will believe it if my omega doesn't mouth off at least half as often as I do." He clapped his hands together. "Anyway. The bike wasn't what I wanted to show you, but if you want to sit on any of the others…?"

"Oh, no. Thank you. That was… nice." Steve was fully aware that "nice" didn't cover what had just happened, but perhaps by sheer force of will, they could both believe it had been.

Tony snorted, but didn't say anything, merely picking up his coffee mug again and leading the way across the garage. He put a hand on Steve's shoulder - making a jolt of adrenaline shoot through him - to line him up in front of a tarp-covered object.

He stepped forward and pulled the tarp off. "Ta-da!"

Steve blinked. "It's a Corolla."

"Yup. 1996."

"Oh." Steve wondered if he was supposed to be impressed, but then Tony laughed.

"It's not the car. Watch this." Tony poked a holoscreen and a bunch of buttons lit up. He pressed a few things then typed in what looked like complicated computer code, then hit another button. 

A low rumble sounded and the car slowly lifted up off the ground until it was hovering, three feet in the air.

"Whoa." Steve bent over to look under it, but he could see straight through. Nothing was holding it up. It was just. Flying. "Oh wow. You built a flying car?"

"Well. I built the prototype to the prototype to the prototype of a flying car. And it's less a car that flies and more a rig that flies cars around. Hence the Corolla. I wanted something I didn't mind dropping."

"That's amazing," Steve breathed. He walked up to the car, close enough to feel the thrum of whatever was keeping it aloft. "Bucky would love this. He used to stay up late reading Scientific American to me. I always fell asleep partway through, though."

"Bucky?"

Steve's heart dropped heavily, slamming down through his stomach and he swallowed hard. "Oh. I - uh. I forgot I hadn't mentioned him. He was my best friend growing up."  _ Don't ask me where he is now,  _ he begged silently.

"Ah. Nice. I have one of those. Rhodey. He doesn't think my flying car's impressive, though. All because I promised him a jetpack in college and never delivered. Now it's like 'what's that, Tony? You solved the energy crisis? Very cool, but what about my jetpack?'" Tony waved his hand. "You know how it is."

Steve laughed. "I'm very sure I don't."

Tony turned the car off, lowering it back down to the ground and picked up his coffee. He took them back to the elevator then started to make his way towards the doughnuts, walking slowly enough that Steve could still peer this way this and that, taking in all there was to see in Tony's workshop. There was a closed door at the south end, surrounded by big, locked cupboards, but Tony didn't lead the way there and didn't say anything about what was in them.

When they reached the couch again, Tony picked up another doughnut half. "So - uh. Hey, so I know I said that you could do whatever you want, and I still stand by that, but…"

Tony's words stung more than Steve would have expected. He knew it, but it still hurt every time. Tony didn't care what he did, who he was. Steve couldn't take the whiplash from "I'll teach you to drive" to "do whatever you want." Bouncing back and forth between Tony seeming to care about him and definitely not was making him feel nauseous. He nodded in reply.

"So I have an event next week and I'd like you to come with me. As my omega."

Steve nodded. "Okay."

"It'll be the first time we're seen out together in public. There will be press and pictures of us together will end up online and in the papers."

"Oh. Okay." Steve nodded. He was doing that "okay" thing, again.

Tony sighed. "It'll change things for you. No one's really known who you were, so far. There was a bonding announcement posted, but there are enough Steve Rogers in the city that no one's narrowed it down yet. Enough people come and go from the tower that no one's spotted you, either. But once we're seen outside together… there's gonna be media. I can't stop that. I can try, I can help, but I can't stop it. People will photograph you, stop you, try and get you to talk about me."

"Point of no return…" Steve muttered.

Tony flinched. "Would you want to? Return? I guess you're right. It's not too late for you to back out…" His expression pinched.

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, you know, that things will change, once people know who I am? I'll have to be - uh - careful?"

Tony nodded, looking relieved. "Yeah. Careful. I mean, it's not like I'm Beyonce. They won't follow you screaming or bother you at work, but you'll, I dunno, you'll have a wiki page."

"Oh. Well, that's fine. I'll do my best to make you look good for the press."

"Thank you, Steve." Tony slumped backwards in his chair then turned back to his screens where several alerts seemed to have popped up in the time they'd been together. His shoulders curled up towards his ears, his cheek tipping to fall to his fist. 

Steve took the tray and slipped out as quietly as he could.

**

A soft knock on the door had Steve looking up from the book he'd been reading, curled up on the bench under the windowsill in his bedroom. "Come in?"

The door creaked open and Tony's face appeared. "Um," he said.

Steve's eyes flickered to the sitting room door but it was closed, hiding his secret studio. "Is everything okay?"

"I have a visitor, actually."

"Oh. I can stay here, be quiet," Steve offered.

"Oh, no, actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come down and meet him?" Tony looked strange, hands deep in his pockets, his weight rolled to the outer edges of his shoes. "He's a member of the SI board."

"Oh. Right. Of course." Steve stood up, tossing his book aside. "I should -" He looked around desperately. He didn't have any halfway decent clothes and the jeans he was wearing were worn and faded. His hair was probably sitting up straight and he didn't even own any makeup besides a stale old stick of eyeliner and a tiny bottle of concealer. 

Tony, seemingly reading his mind, held out a hand. "You look great. Don't worry about it. It's just Obie. He's like an uncle to me."

That just made Steve worry even more, wanting to make a good impression. Tony didn't have much family, no parents to impress, and Steve's entire purpose was to make Tony look good with the board. So here was a man who was both Tony's only family and part of the board, and Steve probably had chalk pastel in his hair and graphite under his chewed-up fingernails. "Um."

No longer telepathic, Tony seemed to take Steve's hesitancy as an unwillingness to go down at all. "It's fine. I'll tell him you're not well."

"No! I can go. Sorry. Just - hold on." Steve flew into the bathroom and slammed the door. He used a wet brush to smooth his hair down and made sure there weren't too many wrinkles in his shirt. There was a red spot blooming on his chin, but the concealer was apparently out on his dresser so he poked it once and hoped it wasn't too noticeable then stepped back out, wishing immediately he'd thought to pee as well. Tony was sitting on the end of his bed, looking at his phone. When he looked up again, something flickered through his expression, and Steve wished again he could look a little more presentable.

"Sorry…" he said again, on instinct, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hmm?" Tony waved his phone. "I ordered pizza. Let's go down."

A large alpha man was sitting in the living room, but he rose when Tony and Steve stepped in the room.

"Obie!" Tony said. "I'd like you to meet my omega, Steve." He wrapped a heavy arm over Steve's shoulders and pulled him close against his side. "Steve this is Obediah Stane, CEO of Stark Industries."

Mr. Stane offered his hand and Steve took it politely. "Steve… such a pleasure to meet the omega that finally tamed Tony Stark." Stane smirked, and Steve resisted an urge to frown back. He made it sound like Tony was an unruly child.

"Pretty sure it's the other way around, Mr. Stane."

Stane chuckled. "Made him work for it, did you? Good, good. He's had everything too easy." He reached out and ruffled Tony's hair, who smacked him away goodnaturedly.

"Come on, Obie. You're going to have him regretting his decision."

Steve flinched at the word  _ decision.  _ As if it ever had been. But this was the job that was going to keep Steve safe: impress Mr. Stane. 

Tony sat on the couch and drew Steve down with him, still holding him close, the arm around his shoulders dropping to his waist. This was more than Tony had touched him in all the time he'd been there combined. Steve forced each one of his muscles in turn to relax. 

"So how's bonded life treating you?" Stane asked. "I noted I didn't get invited to the party."

"Ah, we haven't had one." Tony shrugged. "Trying to keep Steve out of the public's eye for now."

"Want to keep him to yourself as long as possible?" Stane nodded. His eyes flicked over Steve, taking a little too much pleasure in drinking him in. "I can understand that."

Steve shifted closer, curling into Tony. A soft noise rumbled next to him, vibrating through his shoulder, and Steve put a hand flat on Tony's chest out of surprise then yanked it back when Tony flinched violently at his touch. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't worry!" Stane chuckled, apparently missing their awkward encounter and focusing on the seemingly amusing, touchy possession of a newly bonded alpha. "Don't worry, Tony. Though, I must admit, it's nice seeing you passionate about something other than your circuits and gears, my boy."

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but JARVIS dinged intrusively to let them know the pizza had arrived. Tony moved, his weight shifting as if to stand, then he paused and sunk back down. "Uh." He turned to Steve, his eyes saying something Steve couldn't quite read. "Mind getting that, honey?"

Steve nodded and stood, turning his eyes towards the elevator so he wouldn't have to see if Stane's were following him out of the room. He realized as he scooped up the two cardboard boxes that it was better to be asked to get the pizza than be left alone with someone as intimidatingly alpha as Stane was. If anyone had leered at him like that back on his block, Steve would have thrown a brick at them and run for home, but he had a feeling Tony might be bothered by that. Besides, he was already home.

Steve took the pizza boxes to the kitchen, put three plates and some napkins on top, and took them back into the living room. If Stane and Tony were the kind of people to eat pizza with knives and forks, they could get them themselves, he thought petulantly. He put the boxes on the coffee table and took his place beside Tony again.

"So, Steve," Stane said. He leaned forward and popped the top box open. He slid three slices on a plate and sat back again. "Tell me what I can do to get you on my side, hmm?" He smiled saccharinely. "I'm going to need your influence to keep Tony in line, get control of some of those… wild ideas."

Tony rolled his eyes, one hand in the pizza box. He came out with two slices, one of each flavour, and put them on a plate. He leaned back again and, without even looking, handed the plate to Steve.

Steve stared at it. 

An alpha had never handed him food before. It was something for bonded couples, something intimate and affectionate, and Tony had done it so casually, so carelessly. Something flushed deep in Steve's chest and he cleared his throat, but Tony was already back in the pizza box, apparently missing Steve's breakdown entirely.

Right. Stane had asked him a question. "Uh. You know, I think Tony's ideas are pretty amazing, Mr. Stane. Besides, he's so much smarter than me, who am I to judge what's good or not? If he thinks it's worth pursuing…"

Stane quirked an eyebrow then gave Tony a curious look. "Got yourself an omega with a brain there, son. Sure you can handle him?"

Tony's chin jerked up and his eyes narrowed. 

This seemed to be going wrong, somehow, and Steve wasn't sure how. He was supposed to be making nice with Stane, but there was a tension between him and Tony that he didn't understand and didn't know how to dissipate. On pure instinct, he put his hand on Tony's forearm and squeezed. Tony immediately relaxed under his touch. 

He cleared his throat and the arm that had snaked around Steve's waist again tightened for a split second. "He sure does keep me on my toes. Got some incredible ideas of his own, actually. Our library computer systems need a complete overhaul. Sounds like a fun weekend." Tony picked up a slice of pizza and shoved it in his mouth.

That made Steve drop his eyes to his own plate. He picked at a piece of pepperoni, eventually, putting it in his mouth so no one would expect him to speak. Stane and Tony's conversation drifted into the technical, and Steve let his mind wander. 

Best case scenario, this was the rest of his life. Glued to Tony's side, smiling prettily and pushing food around on his plate enough that no one would notice he wasn't eating; his stomach was roiling too much for that. He'd hang off Tony's arm, cracking jokes and telling other alpha's omegas they should really "do coffee sometime," without ever meaning it. He'd worry about which new dishes to order and how to do his hair. 

And then, when the guests were gone and the corporate bigwigs had been wined and dined and it was just him and Tony again…

In one of his novels, that would be when Tony swept him off his feet, scooped him in his arms and kissed him. He'd tell him how beautiful he'd looked that night and how perfect everything had been, how jealous all the other alphas were of Tony, how jealous all the other omegas were of Steve. He'd tell him to leave the dishes for tomorrow, carry him upstairs and lay him out on their shared bed, peeling off Steve's fancy clothes and dropping his own. 

But this wasn't a novel, wasn't a fanciful story. This was real life. And in real life, the door would close on their guest and Tony would disappear without a word, and Steve would be alone again. He'd wash the dishes because who cared? Even though the service would come in and clean the next day. He'd go upstairs and fall asleep alone on his ratty, old futon because he still couldn't bear to sleep on a bed as beautiful as the one Tony had given him, but also maybe even more he couldn't bear to sleep on it alone.

"Well, I guess we should save it for the office tomorrow," Tony said, shifting to the side and jolting Steve out of his thoughts.

Stane chuckled. "I suppose it is getting rather late. And your sweet omega looks about ready to be tucked in, doesn't he?"

Tony's arm tightened again, fingers twitching. Then he stood, leaning forward to shake Stane's hand. Steve stood too, nearly pressed up against Tony's back, trapped between him and the couch. Stane offered Steve his hand again, which Steve took, and Tony let out a tight breath with the hint of a growl on it. It was a good show; he should be possessive this soon in a new bond, and sure enough, Stane smiled. He clapped Tony on the shoulder and squeezed, giving him a little wink, then walked off for the elevator. 

"Goodnight, you two! See you tomorrow, Tony."

"Goodnight, Obie."

Steve managed a, "Goodnight, Mr. Stane," but Tony being all broad and rumbly and right up against him was spinning his head a little bit.

To give him a reason to move away, Steve reached for the half-empty pizza boxes, intending to put the leftovers away, but Tony dove between him and them. "I've got it! It's okay. Don't worry about it. Thanks." He snatched the boxes away and all but ran for the kitchen.

"Um. Alright." Steve twisted his hands together, not sure if he was supposed to wait where he was or do something else. Tony's confident, strong-spined possession had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Tony reappeared a moment later. "You're - uh - probably tired?"

"Yes." Steve nodded. He wasn't really. But he didn't want to be there anymore. "If you don't need anything, I'll head up to bed."

Tony nodded. "Alright. Goodnight. And thank you. For that." He gestured towards the couch where they'd been sitting. "Not many can hold their own against Obie on a power kick. I'm impressed."

"Oh. Thanks." Steve made for the stairs. "Goodnight."

"Oh, Steve?"

Steve paused with one foot on the lower step. "Yes?"

"I got you something. Er - just a little something for the party next week? You don't have to wear it, but… well, I just want to thank you for coming with me."

"Oh. Of course. Thank you." Steve took the small, black box Tony offered him and braced himself for what might be inside. Earrings maybe, not having noticed that Steve's ears had long grown closed when he stopped putting any in. Or perhaps a bracelet, too heavy and wide for Steve's thin wrists. Maybe an ornament for the hair he never grew longer than the tops of his ears. Maybe even makeup he wouldn't know how to put on. He levered the box open. 

It wasn't any of those things.

Inside was a set of cufflinks, tiny, perfect, beautiful. Each one was a carefully crafted book - the most delicate little things Steve had ever seen, their pages parted, as if begging to be read. 

"It's - maybe you would have preferred something else," Tony said, voice rough. "I just thought - I don't know, you don't seem like a jewels person. But if you are! I can, you know, do that. There's a receipt somewhere -"

"No. They're beautiful," Steve choked out. "Um thank you." He clutched the box close to his chest. He didn't want to know how much they cost. He didn't care. He'd never had anything so particularly  _ him  _ before, and Tony had just handed it to him, as if it were so easy to know what was just right. "Thank you," he repeated, cheeks starting to flush. When they got too hot for comfort, and Tony still hadn't done anymore than stare back, Steve nodded once then bolted upstairs to his room. 

In his sitting room, perched on the edge of his futon, Steve popped open the box again and stared at the tiny books. He almost hated how much he loved them. They were entirely pointless, only beautiful, a needless display of wealth, but he loved them nevertheless. He ran his finger over the curved pages.

They weren't just beautiful, though, they were  _ thoughtful.  _ Tony could have just gotten him something pretty, a gemstone, a silver bracelet with a little charm, but instead he must have paid attention, realized that Steve didn't wear that kind of jewelry, didn't like it. 

Tony had paid attention.

Bucky's voice echoed in his ear and he flinched with guilt at how hurried and graceless his exit had been.  _ That was no kind of thank you, Stevie. _


	5. Chapter 5

_ "The US Military's official stance is somewhat obfuscated, but it seems that their policy is rather 'wait and see' about Iron Man. It's unclear who is aware of the armour's pilot - or even whether it is a drone or manned craft. As of now, no military or police action appears to have been taken, and the press releases' general tone seems to be asking for patience from the public. It remains to be seen what the 'Iron Man' will do next." _

Steve paused in his brushstrokes to watch the red and gold armour cut across the screen. It was someone's cell phone footage, shaky and unfocused, but it was followed by a still, clearly caught by a professional lens. 

God, it really was incredible. That someone could build something like it. It was agile, but strong, the shining metal glinting sun in all directions. A bright, white glow in the centre of its chest had a tinge of blue to it, and Steve hesitated where he was painting a cityscape copied from a website.

He was working his way through several online art tutorials, and this one was about perspective. He wasn't exactly enjoying it though. There was something about the way all the buildings disappeared into the single black hole in the middle of his page that was making him feel queasy.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Is that image one you can save for me?" He pointed to the screen where the feed was already cutting back to the anchor's desk.

"The one of 'Iron Man,' sir?"JARVIS' air quotes hung heavy with something that sounded an awful lot like disapproval.

Steve flushed, gripping his paintbrush tighter. JARVIS was a robot. It didn't matter if he thought Steve was being silly. He grit his teeth. "Yes, please."

"Of course, sir." 

A moment later, the TV made a soft chiming noise and the image reappeared. Steve looked around the living room, stomach twisting. It was one thing to paint landscapes, that was an acceptable hobby for even the most restricted omega, but this was a bit different. Steve longed to mix the right red, though, catch that shine with highlights. He knew his skills would fall short of his vision, but he still had to try. And he couldn't try out here where someone might see. Not that "someone" seemed likely to show his face any time soon.

He packed up his project and turned off the living room TV, then made his way back up to his room. He stood there for a long time, hands on hips, staring. 

The main bedroom was almost entirely unused. He didn't sleep in the enormous, over-made bed, and the dresser and closet were almost empty. There was a small pile of "acceptable" books on the shelf in the corner, but the rest were in boxes in the sitting room. It was silly and wasteful; Steve could do better than that. These two rooms were bigger than any apartment he'd lived in and he'd always made those feel homey and welcoming.

Steve rolled up his sleeves and set to work. 

It took an hour to get everything moved around - the futon pushed against the wall, boxes emptied and sorted, and the centre made clear so he could set up his easel without it constantly being in the way. There was a TV in the bedroom that he'd never used, but JARVIS helped him disconnect it and move it into the sitting room to use for reference images. It took another hour to go through his books and finish getting them shelved, because he kept getting distracted and flipping through to find his favourite sections. 

Steve pulled one of the bedside tables from the bedroom into the sitting room and set it up next to his easel, then covered it with one of his old pillow cloths from his apartment. The rest of the sheet set covered the floor around him. He lined up his paints, his brushes, and a cleaned out pickle jar filled with water. 

"Okay, JARVIS, bring up the picture of Iron Man."

It was wonderful.

Steve spent the entire rest of the week with his headphones on, shaking his hips back and forth to the music JARVIS magically piped in, eyes flicking between whatever images he put up on the screen - everything from Iron Man, to buildings, to landscapes, to Tony - and his easel. Canvases seemed to fly off his brush and into the corner where he dried them. He'd ordered a lot, during his accidental, art supply spending spree - something he'd firmly pushed from his mind for now - but the collection was starting to dwindle and he knew this new addiction was something it'd be hard to go without, now.

At night, in the dark, on his futon, he'd stare at the shadowy shapes of canvasses lined up along the wall and calculate how much of his next paycheck he could spend on more paint and canvases and still have enough for groceries. The fact that Tony didn't eat meant Steve could cut way back on his plans and still have plenty leftover. For the first time in his life - now that he wasn't paying rent or utilities, and that was finally starting to sink in - Steve had money to burn, and it made him feel giddy.

He closed his eyes and rolled over, facing the back of the futon, which he still hadn't opened; he was small enough that it hardly mattered. He'd nearly finished his Iron Man piece that day, and with his eyes closed, his mind completed the brush strokes he hadn't had time to start, layering in the colours. 

_ Iron Man…  _ who was he, anyway? He was obviously an alpha, and with the military being so hush-hush about it all, it'd make sense if he was one of them. Big and strong and trained to handle anything. It was the kind of thing one of his favourite romance authors would write about. Iron Man… metal-clad hero during the day, strong-armed, sensitive lover at night. He'd have a beautiful omega who knew his secret and would wait for him to return, sighing out the window with mournful concern but welcoming him back with open arms each time he returned. 

Steve's body flushed as he imagined himself in that window, watching the city pour along beneath him, waiting for the hum of engines - or however it powered itself - as the Iron Man landed on his balcony. He'd open the armour and step out of it, dark hair ruffled by the breeze.

_ "Did you miss me?"  _ he'd whisper, catching Steve in his arms.

And Steve would pout and shake his head.  _ "Not in the slightest," _ he'd say, but the softness in his voice would betray him.

Overcome by lust, Iron Man would scoop him up into his arms and carry him inside, not making it further than the couch before he had to have him. He'd lay Steve so softly on his back, hands rough and wandering, mouth hot…

A soft moan leaked out of Steve's throat and he realized he was rubbing up against the back of the futon while his fantasy ran wild. He made himself stop, turning back the other way and crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't be stupid," he muttered to himself. It wasn't like an alpha like Iron Man would want anything at all to do with him, and besides, he had an alpha. He was Tony's. He shouldn't be thinking about others.

Steve fell asleep with his arm going numb from lying on it funny, but he couldn't bring himself to shift around, worried he'd follow another lustful path into illicit imaginings.

**

The next day, Steve took one of his less steamy books to the library, hoping that reading during the day, in such a nice room, might keep his rampaging libido in check. He'd woken up sweaty and still hard from his wandering mind the night before, and if he'd gone right back into painting he was sure he'd end up halfway in fantasy land again.

He brought some bread crumbs for Joshua who was humming his way across the perfectly clean carpet when Steve arrived. He sprinkled them around and watched Joshua's lights change from green to yellow to red then back to green again as he swallowed them up.

"Good boy."

Steve got sucked into his book, as he always did, but there was a tickle at the back of his mind. Every description in the story just made him itch to pick up his paintbrush again and he only made it through three chapters before he couldn't take it anymore. He closed his book and made for the door, stepping back over Joshua on his way out. But then he paused, watching the little bot spin in aimless circles. "Hey, JARVIS, why is he only ever in this room?"

"The library is this unit's dedicated cleaning space."

"There aren't robots vacuuming around the rest of the apartment, though."

"That is correct. Mr. Stark has a few units for his workshop and garage and the rest of the apartment is cleaned by the hired service."

"Doesn't it get boring doing the same room over and over again?"

"It's a robot, sir. It can't get bored."

Steve pouted and crossed his arms. "And so what would happen if I took him out of the library?"

"Well. It would continue cleaning until it ran out of batteries and then it'd be unable to return to its charging station."

"Why?"

"See the little red dot stuck to the bottom of the door frame? That prevents it from crossing that line so the door can be open and it will still only stay in the library."

"So if I removed the dot…?"

"Then it would be free to roam, sir."

"Would Tony get mad?"

"Mr. Stark has given you complete control over all household appliances and systems, excepting some necessary security functions and the systems within his workshop."

What JARVIS almost certainly meant was that Tony wouldn't even notice if Steve released Joshua. He bent low and ran his finger over the little red light on the door frame. It was actually a button and when he pushed it, the light went out. He stood and watched, tense, as Joshua hummed over to a shelf, back across to the couch, then angled sharply and headed straight for the door. It was like watching the DVD logo bouncing around on the TV and waiting for it to hit a corner.

Steve held his breath when the little robot reached the threshold, but he trundled right over it and continued on down the hall. Steve grinned, not sure why he was so pleased. JARVIS really was right - he was a robot, he didn't care - but it felt good anyway. And having the gentle background humming would be nice, make him feel less like he was rattling around by himself in this big, empty space. Maybe he'd make a big mess next time he cooked and let Joshua clean it up.

A new spring in his step, Steve went back to his room, put his book away and took out his paintbrushes. He put his headphones on and cranked some of his old favourites.

Two hours later, Steve swirled his brush through the red paint and tilted his head, examining his canvas. It was so close. He'd let it dry completely over the weekend and have it all finished by Sunday. What he was going to do with it, he had no idea, but he was proud of it nonetheless.

"Come on over, baby!" He shook his hips to the right, in time with his music, briefly singing into the end of his paintbrush before he remembered the "Yellow Ochre and Freddie Mercury" incident and turned it back towards the canvas.

A hand landed on Steve's shoulder, and he screeched and dived to the side, ripping his headphones off and wielding the paint-soaked brush like a sword.

"I'm so sorry!" Tony yelled, backing away, hands up. 

"What are you doing in here?!"

"I'm sorry!" Tony repeated, his back hitting the wall next to the door. "I called out to you and I thought I heard you say come in."

Steve's heart pounded in his chest and he sunk down on the edge of the futon, trying to pull in steady breaths. "I was singing," he croaked out. He gestured towards the headphones. "I didn't hear you. I was singing along."

"Shit, I'm sorry. I misheard. I'll go."

"Can you -" Steve's chest tightened. "Inhaler?"

"Oh god, yes. Of course." Tony dived towards where Steve was pointing and found an inhaler sitting on top of a pile of books. He brought it to Steve and crouched down in front of him, his fingers curling around his wrist to find his pulse point. 

Steve tried to focus on drawing the medicine into his lungs and not how gentle Tony's touch was. 

"I'm so sorry," Tony breathed again. "I shouldn't have come in here."

Steve shook his head. "'s okay. Honest mistake." The sharpness in his chest was more adrenaline than asthma attack so after a hit from the inhaler and a few deep breaths, he was feeling better. 

Tony straightened up, his fingers falling away from Steve's wrist. "So that's a -" He cut off sharply, and Steve looked up to see what had stopped him.

He was staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the finished painting of Iron Man in the corner. "You made that?" he asked.

"I -" There really was no viable excuse - he'd bought it? That was even worse. "Yes. I've been practicing, you know, with whatever is available, because I really like art, and I'm hoping to get better," he babbled. "I do these too!" He pointed hopefully towards the landscapes.

Tony shot them a glance. "Oh, those are nice." He turned back to Iron Man, stepping closer, his hands going into his pockets like he didn't trust them not to touch. "Wow." He fell silent, offering no other judgement, and Steve hung there, waiting.

When Steve couldn't take the silence anymore, he cleared his throat. "I like the colours."

Tony seemed to snap out of a trance. "Really?" There was something cautiously hopeful in his voice that Steve couldn't make sense of. "You don't think it's a little…" His eyes flicked up to the ceiling and back down. "Ostentatious?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. I think it's stunning. And besides, he's a superhero, right? Superheroes should be…"

"Intimidating?"

"Inspiring," Steve breathed.

"Oh." Tony's eyes softened into a smile. "Superhero, huh? Some people don't think so."

"Well. I believe in him. He seems to be trying to do good." Steve braced himself for Tony to remind him how woefully uninformed he was on everything that mattered.

"I think so too," he said, instead. "Not always easy, though. To know what's right."

"I imagine not." Steve twisted his brush between his fingers.

"It's really beautiful," Tony finally all but whispered. "You're so talented. Why are you hiding these away in here? They're so good. Can we hang something up? Like right by the elevators so I can see it when I get home. This one?" Tony pointed to life study of a vase of flowers in the window, a pile of books next to it. "Look at that lighting."

Steve opened and closed his mouth several times. "Um. It's not dry." He laughed at Tony's enthusiasm. "I don't really know what I'm doing."

"You have an eye. Seriously. Amazing. You should have like -" Tony waved his hand "- a website," he finished lamely. "Or something."

Steve laughed again. "Tony, come on."

"No it's - may I?" He gestured towards the canvas that faced the wall. 

"Um."

"It's okay. Nevermind."

"No - I -" Steve chewed on his bottom lip. For some reason he wanted Tony to see, even though he could feel every beat of his heart up at the back of his throat when he thought about it. "It's - sorry." He grabbed the back of the canvas by the window and spun it around. 

It was of Tony. Steve had tried, with his unpracticed hand, to catch some of the way Tony would curl his lips up in a reluctant smile on one side, eyes bright - always bright - those rare times he'd spouted some nonsense to make Steve laugh. It was still hideously awkward between them, but they would be living with each other forever now, or at least until Tony got tired of Steve and shipped him off to some private villa in Spain so he could return to his normal life without Steve underfoot all the time. But they needed to get along, in the meantime, and Steve was trying. He hoped Tony understood this was part of how he was trying. Letting himself see Tony as Tony instead of  _ Alpha.  _

It was like his lessons on perspective. He'd moved on from one-point to two-point and that was what it felt like, sometimes, living with Tony. Two dots, in the same space, all lines converging on both. They were connected by a horizon, but both seeing different sides of the same buildings. What would it feel like to see things from Tony's point of view? He picked at the edge of the canvas with a thumbnail, all too aware that his own perspective was massively on display to Tony right now, while Tony's was still in the dark, to him.

"Oh." Tony's knuckle came up to shove between his teeth as he stared at the canvas, brow furrowed. 

Steve flushed hot. "Sorry. It's not very -" He moved to turn it back and Tony lurched forward, catching his wrist. 

"No, wait. Is… is that how you see me?" He gripped the bottom of the canvas and tilted it into the light. 

There was no way he could explain that it was a mix of how he saw him and how he wanted to see him, so he just nodded. 

"This is… really good." Tony's voice dropped soft and low. "Special."

"Thank you." Steve could feel heat crawling from his cheeks down his spine to pool in his core. There was something about Tony's praise that he couldn't crawl out from under. "I -" He didn't know what to say. Tony was standing so close, one hand on the painting, and he reached up and gave Steve's shoulder a squeeze. It was friendly, encouraging, nothing more, but as his hand slid back across Steve's neck, not squeezing, but brushing, fingers tightening just a little as they ran over his skin.

It was like an electric shock to Steve's gut, tingling heat shooting down and flushing through him. Slick dripped between his thighs, throbbing in rhythm with his rapid heartbeat. His body was humming, all from a simple compliment, and he couldn't make it stop.

He watched, horrified, as Tony's nostrils flared and he turned wide eyes on Steve. "Steve -"

Steve stumbled backwards, dropping the painting and pushing out of Tony's reach. "I'm -" His cheeks were on fire. "I really have to clean these brushes," Steve bit out, grabbing a handful of wet, paint-covered mess and nearly fumbling them all back down to stain the carpet.

"Steve…" Tony said softly, not moving away, and suddenly everything was  _ horrible.  _

Steve just wanted to be alone. He didn't want to think about this anymore, didn't want to see the wincing apology in Tony's eyes. That wasn't what this was about, Steve knew that, but he couldn't stop his stupid body from reacting, to Tony's heat, his scent, his closeness. To the ghost of his firm fingers he could still feel on the back of his neck. "You said this was my sitting room!" He burst out, gripping the paintbrushes hard enough to hurt. "It's mine."

Tony opened his mouth then closed it again. He took a very obvious step back. "I'm sorry. Of course it is. Sorry." Tony turned and marched off, finally leaving Steve by himself.

Steve sunk down on the edge of his futon, the paintbrushes clattering to the floor, only barely making it onto the dropcloth. Mortification didn't even begin to cover it. He'd just made a pass at his alpha, who'd made it clear he wasn't into him that way, dripped all over him, then told him to fuck off out of a room in his own house. Oh god.

Steve dropped his face into his hands with a soft groan - and the last thing he needed Tony to hear were noises that suggested Steve was taking care of things himself. "What the fuck?" he whispered softly, into the empty room. His body was still humming with unspent tension. 

"Sir? May I remind you that you're attending the Lights Up Gala tonight. Your suit has been delivered and is in the main elevator."

Steve whimpered out a sob. "Oh god." The  _ one day  _ when Steve absolutely had to spend time with Tony and he'd decided to yell at him multiple times, embarrass himself in every possible way, practically hump him, and then scream at him. Perfect. Everything was perfect. "Everything is perfect, right now, JARVIS."

"Glad to hear it, sir," JARVIS said sardonically. 

Once JARVIS assured Steve the route was clear, he scuttled downstairs and snatched the suit that had apparently been delivered that morning out of the elevator, apologizing to Joshua as he darted over him. Back upstairs, he unpacked the bag and laid all the pieces out on the bed. 

It was stunning, really. The nicest piece of clothing Steve had ever owned. Steve had never been to a tailor, but he could tell this jacket had been altered to fit him exactly, so Tony must have had JARVIS send his measurements. Either that or magic was involved somehow.

Not wanting to smudge or wrinkle anything, Steve put it all back in the garment bag and stripped down to get in the shower. He scrubbed himself all over with strong-smelling body wash, recalling with wince-inducing humiliation the way Tony's nostrils had flared at the slick leaking between his legs. Freshly showered, Steve stood in front of the mirror in a towel and tried to tame his hair into place. He plucked his eyebrows - crookedly, but there wasn't much he could do about that - and used the little bit of makeup he had to darken his eyeline and cover a few spots. 

The suit slipped on easily, smooth and crisp and comfortable. There was a white undershirt and a pale blue button-down in the garment bag too, and Steve's cheeks heated all over again when he thought about Tony seeing his political tee through his shirt in his picture. If he wasn't careful - and didn't stop torturing himself - he was going to smell like embarrassed sweat instead of embarrassed slick this time. 

His nervous fingers fumbled the cufflinks when he tried to take the backs off so he put them back in the box and put the box in his pocket. That was a thing, for some alphas. Putting on their omega's jewelry, helping them dress, so maybe Tony would be willing to put them on for him. If not, he'd figure them out in the car. 

Steve's stomach churned as he thought about the gala. There'd be so many people there, and everyone would know Tony was newly bonded but not know anything about his omega. There would probably be so much attention on him, and the thought made Steve's mouth go dry. Surely Tony wouldn't leave him alone to be hounded by interested socialites? He'd have to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't screw up and say the wrong thing. Right?

Unless, after this morning, Tony wouldn't want to be within ten feet of Steve. Maybe he wouldn't want to bring him to the gala at all. God, what if he went downstairs and Tony was already gone and Steve would be standing there in his stupid suit with  _ makeup on, for fuck's sake.  _ Steve stood paralysed by his door until JARVIS finally said, "Mr. Stark is waiting for you by the elevator, sir."

Steve realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd kind of been hoping that Tony  _ would  _ leave without him. It'd be humiliating, and he'd eventually have to face Tony later, but it would also mean he'd be humiliated alone instead of in front of an entire ballroom full of people. Fancy people. Rich people. Tony's people.

What if Tony touched his neck again and Steve did a repeat performance as a 16-year-old, omega horndog, dripping slick and panting all over his alpha? Maybe Tony would let him keep the suit when he got turned out on the street. Even tailored to him, it had to be worth a pretty penny.

Steve straightened his jacket, took a deep breath, and pushed himself out the door. 

Tony was waiting by the elevator door, looking absolutely traffic-stopping in a deep red shirt and a sleek, dark grey suit. His eyes were on his phone, but they snapped up when Steve came down the stairs to the living room. "Oh," Tony said, blinking. Several unreadable expressions crossed his face. 

Steve all but stumbled over to him. "Sorry," he said, "I couldn't -" He held up the box of cufflinks, and Tony's brow creased, confused. "I can't get them on," Steve clarified.

"Oh. Oh, yeah, here. Let me help." Tony took the box and popped it open. He took the little books out and dropped one in his pocket along with the box then reached for Steve's wrist.

Steve held his hand out, and Tony curled his fingers around Steve's smaller fist, turning him gently so the cuff buttonholes faced upward. He tugged the sleeve free from the jacket and folded the cuffs together deftly, sliding the cuff through the hole and clipping it into place. "There." He held his hand out for the other one.

Tony's touch was kind and gentle, and all Steve could think about was how desperately he didn't want to ruin this moment. It felt like an apology, for earlier, and considering that he'd never be able to get a real apology out without bursting into flames, this would have to do.

"Thank you." Steve shook out both arms so the jacket fell right again. He looked at the tiny, perfect books. "I love them."

"Good." Tony didn't move.

Steve looked up at him, and a piece of lint on Tony's collar caught his eye. He reached up and tugged it away, brushing his hand lightly over the lapel to smooth it after.

Tony's eyes had gone wide, one brow quirking up.

"Lint," Steve said, by way of explanation.

"Oh."

The room was warm and small and oppressive, despite being vast and cool and open. "Do we need to go?" Steve all but whispered, and Tony snapped back into himself.

"Right. Yes, of course. Gala. Let's go." Tony took Steve's hand, wrapping his fingers firmly around Steve's, and led the way onto the elevator. He didn't let go as the doors slid closed. "You okay? You ready for this?"

"I don't really know what 'this' is going to be. So I hope so."

Tony sighed. "Just a bunch of rich assholes seeking tax deductions."

Steve chuckled. "Sounds like a want ad from Craigslist."

That made Tony laugh out loud, his fingers tightening around Steve's in a way that shot a jolt of heat through Steve's belly. "Rich, single, white alpha seeking extravagant and indulgent tax deduction that enjoys being dressed up as charitable giving. Likes short walks on the red carpet to high-end buffet tables, and can never say no to an open bar. Press welcome."

Steve giggled. "Is it really like that?"

Tony shrugged. "Little bit. But in all honesty, the charity is amazing, and I know nights like this are really important to them, budget wise. They don't really care how much the rich assholes enjoy jerking each other off if it pays their overhead for the year."

The doors sprung open again and Tony led Steve out to the car. He opened the door and used Steve's hand to lead him in. The ride wasn't long, but Steve spent most of it missing the steady warmth of Tony's hand gripping his. He shoved his hands between his thighs and squeezed them there so they wouldn't do anything silly. 

The gala was being hosted in a hotel that looked more like a palace, with a long, heavy, red carpet leading past a gaggle of photographers towards huge, glass doors. Tony started to push the car door open, and Steve sucked in a steadying breath.

Tony immediately turned to him. "You okay? We can always just go back home and eat Phish Food in our jammie pants."

Steve burst out laughing. "I'm okay. Let's go."

"Alright." Tony stepped out of the car and reached back in to help Steve out. He pulled him close as the cameras started flashing and whispered in his ear, "I'm still ordering Phish Food, though."

Steve grinned, even as his eyes flicked to the paparazzi on either side of them and his heart stuttered. But Tony used their joined hands to pull Steve quickly past them, offering a few waves and a few winks and completely ignoring all the shouted questions.

_ "How's the new bond going?" _

_ "Where'd you meet?" _

_ "Tell us about your family, Steve!" _

_ "Any little Starks on the way?" _

Steve's cheeks inflamed, and he knew his smile had turned into open-mouthed shock, but then they were through the door. It was quieter inside, still humming with conversation but less overwhelming. It was no less glittery, but in a different way, fairy lights surrounding the dance floor and a wall of glass shining behind the bar. Most of the guests were in suits and dresses, but a few had their military blues on and Steve was reminded painfully of Bucky. If only he were here, could be here, just so Steve would have a friendly face to pull some encouragement from. 

But Tony's fingers squeezed Steve's hand gently and it wasn't nothing. At least his alpha seemed to recognize that this would be scary and intimidating for someone who hadn't been anywhere fancier than an Olive Garden before he came to Stark Tower. 

"Drink?" Tony asked, and Steve nodded, feeling like yes was the right answer, but also that it would be nice to hold something in his hand, something to sip if he didn't know what to say or how he should school his expression.

Tony took him over to the bar and the bartender appeared seemingly out of nowhere, smiling kindly at Tony and not even letting her eyes flick towards Steve. It was so… well,  _ posh.  _ Where Steve grew up, very few bonded couples operated under the same social niceties that these fancy people did. Omegas were too busy to be able to wait for an introduction before they could talk to other alphas, usually working more than one job to try and help support their families. Poor folk had learned long ago that standing on ceremony just got in the way of living.

But everyone here was exceedingly polite. The bartender waited for Tony to ask Steve what he wanted and when he stuttered out, "Ginger ale?" Tony passed that along. His drink was handed to Tony, who sniffed it then handed it to Steve. 

Tony got a scotch and was just turning away back towards the party when a tall, thin man called out, "Tony!" and Tony turned to face him.

The next couple of hours went by in a whirlwind. Every time Tony seemed like he was going to say something to Steve, someone would appear at his elbow and demand his time. Tony introduced Steve to about half the people he talked to and while he didn't explain why, Steve started noticing the tension in his shoulders and the slight sneer on his face with the people he didn't introduce Steve to. 

Like the man he was talking to now.

Steve had discerned that he was Senator Stern, and also that Tony wasn't really a fan. Still, Tony sipped his fourth drink while the man rambled on and mostly Steve tuned it out, until Stern said, "I really don't understand, you know. They should just stay home for their heats. It's disruptive in a working environment, if they must work at all."

"Right," Steve snapped, "because  _ that's  _ so easy to do. Employers just love giving paid time off for heats." Steve caught himself halfway through an eyeroll as reality crashed down on top of him. He'd just mouthed off to a guest. Someone he hadn't even been introduced to.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _

Stern froze then turned, dropping his cool gaze down to Steve. "I don't believe we've had the  _ pleasure,"  _ He looked back up at Tony, jaw set and eyebrow raised in question.

Steve braced for the smack, the swearing, being sent home - which would almost be a relief -  _ anything.  _ There was a difference between being comfortable around Tony privately and embarrassing him in public.

Tony's arm came out and Steve flinched, but it curled around his shoulders, drawing him up against Tony's side. He was big and warm and solid and Steve leaned his weight into him, trying to stay steady. "This is my omega, Steve," Tony said coolly. "And he has quite the point. You've voted for steeper restrictions on suppressants  _ eight times in a row,  _ but never voted for paid heat-leave, heat care support, or home heat nurses as a mandatory part of employment packages, and I know that, because I've poured money into that issue every year for the past five years and haven't gotten much traction at all. So why is that, senator? Seems kind of contradictory to force omegas to have their heats and then not offer compensation for missing work."

Stern opened his mouth then closed it again. He glared down at Steve. "Your omega has quite the tongue in his mouth."

"Too true," Tony drawled. "Quite the brain in his head too. I find one of those two infinitely more delightful, I'll let you ponder the question of which on your own time, but I do feel the need to remind you that election is perpetually at hand and money talks." Tony's voice dropped low and menacing. "So a well-funded tongue is worth listening to." He leaned back and smiled, clapping Senator Stern on the arm. "Anyway, I'm starving. You hungry, honey?"

Steve swallowed the huge knot in his throat and nodded. "Yes. Hungry."

"I see a savory pastry bar with our name on it. Let's go, pumpkin." Tony kept his grip on Steve's shoulders and drove him away from the table and towards the long buffet tables. As soon as they were out of earshot, Tony burst into laughter. "That was fucking amazing. I don't think an omega has ever talked to him like that."

Steve found his voice. "God, Tony, I'm so sorry. That was so inappropriate. Oh my god. Oh my god."

Tony took Steve by the shoulders and turned him so they were facing each other. He bent a little to look Steve in the eye. "You okay? Cause that was amazing, but if you're uncomfortable -"

"No. No, it's okay. I just didn't want to embarrass you."

Tony laughed. "I'm not embarrassed, I'm fucking delighted."

"Okay." Steve let out a long, slow breath. "Sorry, anyway."

"Don't you ever be sorry for being smart and right," Tony said firmly.

Steve stared at Tony, utterly flummoxed. No one had ever said something like that to him. He couldn't really remember anyone besides his mom ever calling him smart, and Tony was a certified genius. "Um. Well. I think I might still step out for a minute and get some air." Steve gestured towards the wall of bay doors that lead to the balconies. "If that's okay."

"Of course." Tony pulled Steve against him for a moment, a show of affection for the room, then released him. Steve held his breath so as not to suck in any of Tony's scent. "Want me to grab you anything?" He pointed at the food.

"No, that's okay. I'll get something on my way back in. I just need a minute."

"Want company?"

It felt like a real question, not a carefully veiled command, so Steve said, "No, I'm okay. Thanks."

"Alright."

Steve shuffled away, feeling a hundred pairs of eyes heating the back of his neck, even though no one was looking his way. There was a couple on the first balcony, but the second was empty, so Steve slipped out the door and closed it behind him. The cool air hit his hot face and he felt immediate relief. He let out a long, tight breath and crumpled over the railing, dropping his face to his arms with a groan. 

How could he let his tongue run away with him like that? This wasn't the library, or Bucky's Ma's kitchen, it was a fancy charity gala for fancy rich people, people who cared about decorum and politeness and respect for your alpha. Fuck. He was so good at screwing up. He constantly screwed up at trying to be a good omega for Tony, either by trying too hard at home or not trying hard enough in public. And Tony might find it funny or endearing this time, but surely, eventually, Steve's hot mouth would run away with him and he'd say something no one found amusing. He'd deserve to get smacked for that, really; he could hardly blame Tony if he wanted to.

But Tony didn't seem to want to. Steve's vivid imagination summoned up the memory of Tony laughing, delighted, of his arm drawing Steve close up against his side, sure and strong and unhesitating. Maybe Tony really wasn't like that. Maybe -

"Oh, I'm sorry," a new voice drawled.

Steve startled up to see an alpha hanging by the door, a cigarette box and lighter in his hand. He was tall, with light brown hair and a few day's worth of stylish stubble. He was dressed in army blues, crisp and clean, with a grid of metal pinned to the front. He curved up the corner of his lips in a rakish smile and held up his cigarettes. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Just looking for a place to smoke." He didn't move away, though, looking at Steve expectantly.

"Oh. Oh, it's okay. You can have this one. I'll go back inside."

"Oh, god no. Can't kick you off your own balcony. I'll uh -" he looked around and frowned as if he couldn't think of another solution. There were a few other balconies, but Steve imagined they were all occupied by now. It was getting hot inside. 

"I don't mind if you smoke," he said, trying to be kind, but hoping the man would at least blow his smoke in the other direction. There was plenty of room for both of them, and there was nothing inappropriate about Steve being outside with another alpha. They weren't even really alone - the party was hopping, just on the other side of the doors.

"You sure? If I get caught smoking by the doors downstairs, it'll be in all the papers." The alpha stepped forward into the light from the sconces on the wall and Steve registered that he had a pin with his name on it. He also looked… familiar...

"Did we meet inside?" Steve asked politely. If they hadn't, it really wasn't acceptable for them to talk. But Tony was inside, unable to introduce him, and he'd shaken hands with so many people… so many names, many in uniform.

The alpha shrugged then leaned against the railing on his elbows and worked a cigarette out of the box. "I don't stand on all that ceremony anyway." He winked. "I don't mind if you don't mind." He tucked it between his lips then offered the box to Steve, leaning closer so Steve could reach.

But Steve shook his head. "No, thank you."

"Wait -" the alpha leaned in even closer, and Steve resisted the urge to flinch back. "Steve?"

"Um."

"Steve Rogers, right? From Red Hook?"

"Oh. Yes. Oh!" The familiarity snapped into place. "Uhh - apartment 405?"

"Yeah. Hodge. Gil Hodge. Went back to visit a friend there a few weeks ago and couldn't smell you all over the elevator anymore." He chuckled and winked in Steve's direction like it was a joke they were supposed to share. Steve didn't get it. "Wondered where you'd gone off to."

"I moved," Steve said simply, answering the unasked question. Hodge was smiling at him in a way that felt overly familiar, but Steve supposed they  _ did  _ know each other, sort of. He'd run into Hodge in the elevator now and then, sometimes with his alpha friends. He'd never been particularly nice, and Steve was pretty sure he was the one who used to knock on Steve's door during his heat, just to frighten him - or maybe hoping he'd open it, he never knew. He never  _ tried  _ anything, though. He was just a bit… crass, sometimes. "How have you been?" Steve asked politely. Because he'd been rude enough for one night and he was determined to do right by Tony with at least one person at this damn party.

"Oh you know, can't complain." Hodge lit his cigarette and took a drag, blowing the smoke out into the dark night. Steve watched the curls and whorls float away into nothing. Hodge straightened up again and it shifted him closer to Steve. "What are you doing at a place like this?"

Steve's cheeks heated. "My alpha…"

"Ah, nice. 'Moved,' huh." He laughed. "I see. Snagged a good one."

"He snagged me," Steve said firmly, "but yes. Very good."

"Lucky you. I guess the money makes up for…" Hodge puffed out a lungful of white smoke. "Other things. I saw you out there schmoozing. It's all a joke isn't it?"

Steve was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, now. Hodge had acted like he'd only just recognized Steve, but if he's seen him in the party… had he followed Steve out here? He felt a wave of righteous anger, too, at Hodge's dig, feeling the urge to defend the alpha that really had been nothing but kind to him, so far, if confusing, but he also didn't want to talk to Hodge anymore. It'd be rude to just walk out, though, and the alpha was between him and the balcony doors. Maybe he'd finish his cigarette and leave. Steve tucked himself tighter against the railing, curling away and trying to radiate  _ leave me alone  _ vibes.

But Hodge slunk closer. "I remember you…" he murmured. "We used to talk about The Mets. You remember me, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I remember you." He didn't remember talking about baseball, though, maybe a casual  _ how about the game last night?  _ but nothing more. Hodge had never really talked to him at all, none of the alphas in the building had. Steve would have given anything back then to have a handsome alpha crowding up in his space and showing interest, but Hodge hadn't. Unless… maybe he was remembering wrong? Maybe he'd misunderstood, misread…

"I know you're all, you know, taken now," Hodge said with a light laugh, "but I used to think about you sometimes." He stepped closer again, snubbing out his half-burnt cigarette on the railing then tossing it over into the greenery below. "I know I'm not loaded enough to have a fancy plate here, just showing off for the army, but we had some chemistry, didn't we?" He spread his arms wide with a sly smirk.

Steve didn't know what to say. Was Hodge… coming on to him? 

"You sure clean up nice." Hodge's grin had too much teeth. "Guess he's treating you right, huh?" He nodded his head towards the party inside. "We knew how to have fun the right way back in Brooklyn, though, didn't we? Less pomp and circumstance. More party. I remember you used to stink up that elevator twice a year…"

The balcony doors suddenly seemed a mile away, but Steve just wanted to run, to duck under Hodge's arm - because when had he braced it against the railing, trapping Steve in place? - and run. Run to Tony. Tony who wasn't interested in touching him, but also didn't seem likely to allow anyone else to. Not that Hodge was touching him. But… it was like the air around Hodge  _ was  _ touching him, crawling up his skin, too close and  _ pressure  _ and - Steve's breath caught in his throat.

"You okay?" Hodge murmured. "You have asthma right?" He stepped closer again and  _ god,  _ why was he so close? A cloud of smoke moved in with him and that only choked up Steve's lungs more. "Do you have an inhaler, sweetheart?" He put his hand on Steve's shoulder and it was probably supposed to be comforting but instead it made Steve want to squirm away, slide down to the floor and cover his head and just hide until Hodge left. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to be pressed up close with an alpha he barely knew, one who never got an introduction from Tony, but Hodge was just trying to be nice, trying to help him and he was having an asthma attack and all he wanted was to be home.

"My - uh - my alpha has it," he lied, trying to suck in air, but Hodge only pushed closer, using all of it, shoving the oxygen away from Steve. Surely, he'd have to let him go find Tony for his inhaler, right? The hand on Steve's elbow curled around to Steve's side and he was helping hold him up, right? Cause Steve was going to slide to the ground and Hodge was helping him up and he wasn't squeezing, wasn't  _ groping  _ because, god, if Steve was here getting felt up and Tony was just in the other room -

And Hodge smelled like alpha, under the bitter bite of smoke, and to Steve's  _ horror  _ his body was reacting to his closeness. A closeness Tony had the right to claim but never had. Hodge curled over him, making him even smaller, and the heat in his eyes, the want, was something Steve wasn't used to seeing directed at him. It was almost overpowering.

"Hmm, well, I'm not sure where he is," Hodge said, brow twisting with concern. And Steve tried to say,  _ he's just inside,  _ but his tongue wouldn't work, seizing up along with his lungs. "Maybe I should take you into the back so you can sit -?"

_ No, no, no  _ he couldn't leave or no one would know where he was and all he needed was his inhaler and -

"His alpha's right here," said a cool voice from the doorway.  _ Tony.  _

Steve almost crumpled in relief. He didn't even care how bad it looked that he was out here almost wrapped in an embrace with a strange alpha, he was so relieved that Tony was there that nothing else mattered.

Tony's eyes cut to Steve. "You okay?" His gaze was steady, firm, but otherwise gave nothing away.

"He's having an asthma attack," Hodge said, finally,  _ finally  _ stepping back, but still between Tony and Steve. "Really shouldn't let him wander around when he's so sensitive."

Tony sauntered over, all casualness, and shoved himself between Steve and Hodge, managing to block Steve entirely from his view without knocking Steve off balance, facing Hodge. He stuck his hand in his pocket and came up with one of Steve's inhalers. Steve gaped - he had no idea Tony had one with him - and handed it back. Steve took it and immediately took two hits, breathing in as deeply as he could. He leaned against Tony's back in silent thanks.

"And you are?" Tony asked, voice dripping with disinterest.

"Gil Hodge. Me and Stevie go way back. Used to live together. We were just catching up."

"Oh, yeah? Funny, he hasn't mentioned you." Tony turned back and his expression pinched. "You okay?" he asked again, pitched lower, just for Steve. "Inhaler working?" There was something more under his words, like he was asking if the inhaler was all Steve needed.

The medicine was starting to work, though, combined with Tony's steadying presence, and Steve nodded. "Shouldn't be outside when people are smoking," Tony said softly. "Worst thing for your lungs."

"I know."

Tony curled a possessive arm around Steve's middle and held him close. "Shouldn't smoke all over people, eh Gil Hodge? Bit rude. Almost as rude as approaching a bonded omega without an introduction, don't you think?"

"Well, Stevie and I go way back, so -"

Steve stiffened against Tony's side and his arm tightened. "Maybe before he was bonded. But he's mine now."

"Well, then you should look out for him. Anyone could have come out here, you know."

"Seems like anyone did," Tony hissed and he stepped forward, forcing Hodge to step back. As he moved, he pulled Steve back gently, slotting him against his back again, so all he could see was Tony's suit jacket. Steve felt like he should say something, stop Tony. He felt some weird obligation he couldn't name to assure Tony that he was okay, Hodge hadn't said anything wrong, that they really were old friends, but all of that felt like a lie, so he held his tongue instead. Good omegas weren't supposed to speak their mind, but good omegas also weren't supposed to be found out on private balconies in the arms of another alpha without a good excuse. And yet, Steve felt fairly confident that Tony didn't want his good excuse, if it wasn't true. He felt safer, now that he couldn't feel Hodge's cold eyes on him, smell his breath, so he'd stay right here, up against Tony's back, and be quiet. Like a good omega.

Tony tugged his phone out of his left hand pocket, shifting closer and closer to Hodge until he was backed up against the far railing. Steve kept himself tucked up close, one hand gripping a handful of the back of Tony's suit jacket, not caring that it would wrinkle. He still felt lightheaded and low on oxygen and he didn't know if it was from the smoke or Hodge's closeness.

"Gilmore Hodge, right?" Tony asked, his voice sounding far too casual. Steve caught sight of his thumb scrolling through something on his screen with one hand. "Nice trinkets." Tony flicked a finger against the metal decorating Hodge's chest. "Be a shame if someone did some fact checking and pointed out half of these were for ops you couldn't have been a part of. Also be a shame for someone to -" Tony leaned in close to whisper something in Hodge's ear. Steve caught  _ rip, knot,  _ and  _ feed it.  _ He swallowed heavily, peeking around Tony's arm to see Hodge's face go white. "Anyway." Tony leaned back. "Nice meeting you." He held out his right hand to Hodge, and still ghostly pale, Hodge took it.

Steve honestly didn't know what happened next. One minute, Hodge was standing on the other side of Tony and the next he was on the ground, whimpering. Tony turned back to Steve, shaking out his right hand, and a flash of gold caught the light. When Steve blinked, he realized it was only Tony's watch. But Hodge was crumpled on the ground, his right hand clutched to his chest, and a dark stain spread across his pants where it looked like he'd urinated on himself. 

How did -? Steve blinked at Tony who tugged on him. "Come on, honey. Let's blow this popsicle stand. I'm getting a bit tired of the standards for warranting an invitation."

"Uh. Okay. Is he -?" Steve looked back at Hodge.

"Don't worry," Tony said brightly. "I'll send someone in to clean up the mess." He marched them both briskly through the main ballroom, shaking his head at a few people who gestured his way. At the door, Tony reached out towards the porter who stood there and this time there was a flash of green in his handshake, instead of gold. "Clean up," he said with a wink, "aisle four." He tilted his head towards the balcony in question. "Young man had a bit too much. I have a feeling his CO might want to be made aware of the reputation his representative is upholding…"

The porter nodded solemnly, and Tony clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good man. And goodnight!"

Miraculously, the car was waiting at the end of the red carpet and Tony kept Steve wrapped tightly in his hold as he bustled him past the few photographers who had stuck around through the event.

_ "Leaving already? Didn't you like the party?"  _ one called out, but Tony merely pulled Steve cloer into his grasp. 

At the car, Tony guided Steve in, pulling the door shut loudly behind him. "Home," he snapped out, and the car pulled away from the curb. 

Steve could feel anger radiating off Tony now, filling the car with the tingling smell of ozone: an oncoming storm. What if Tony had just been putting on a show at the gala? What if he just didn't want the bad press of punishing his omega in front of everyone? No one would bat an eye if Tony took his anger out on Steve on the balcony, but they were supposed to be the perfect, happy couple for the press. 

Behind closed doors though…

Steve smushed himself up against the far door of the car and worked on keeping his breathing even, pushing away the prickling heat that threatened the backs of his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. He  _ wasn't.  _ Whatever Tony said to him, did to him, he could take it. Take worse. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong, that was what really mattered.

Happy pulled up outside the tower and Tony pushed open his own door before the car had even finished stopping. He reached in and Steve took his hand, letting himself be drawn out then snapping his hand back to his own side. 

"Goodnight, Happy," Tony said tightly.

Happy shot Steve a tense smile then slid back into the car. "Goodnight, boss!" He pulled away.

The elevator doors slid open and Tony stepped in, bracing his hands on the railing, back to Steve. Steve tucked himself in the corner. Maybe Tony would just send him to his room and he'd be left to stew, wondering when he'd be free again.

"Are you okay?" 

"What?" Steve was so startled by Tony speaking, his voice soft but with trembling edges.

"Are you okay?" Tony turned, eyes finding Steve's, and there was pain in them instead of anger.

Steve swallowed heavily. "Yeah. I'm okay. He didn't - he just talked."

"But he scared you."

Steve shrugged. "A little bit. It's fine. Nothing I'm not used to. Well, usually, it's back alleys and dark hallways instead of multi-million dollar, formal events, but…"

"He had no right to talk to you like that." Tony let go of the railing and stepped a little closer, frame tense. "You're mine."

Steve had to tilt his chin up as Tony came closer. "I know. I tried to tell him..."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Tony's hand hovered closer, brushing the air near Steve's cheek then falling away. "He didn't touch you?"

"I'm okay. Tony… I'm okay. I promise." Steve rocked back on his heels. "Don't worry."

"Did you really know him?"

"He used to live in my building. He was a dick to me, honestly."

Tony pinched the lapel of Steve's suit jacket and ran his fingers down the length of it. "You smell like smoke."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Steve. None of that was your fault."

"I should have left, just left, as soon as he came out. And now I've ruined your night." The prickling heat was back. "I was supposed to be good for you tonight, make you look good and -"

"Hey, hey, hey -" the elevator chimed and Tony drew Steve into the living room. "You didn't ruin anything. I was ready to go. Look." He reached into his pocket and came up with a folded napkin. Inside was a bundle of cheese pastries. "I only went for the hors d'oeuvres anyway. Oh and the chocolate boats, but someone got the last one. I was just contemplating murder via tongs, or at least a complicated heist, when I -"

Steve tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

"I smelled your stress," Tony admitted, a light flush colouring his cheeks for some reason. "Cheese puff?"

Steve took one of the pastries and put it into his mouth to cover the fact that he had no idea what to say. Tony was still standing so close to him, even though they weren't in the elevator anymore, and his softly spiced, coconut alpha scent was making the room feel small and close and cozy. Steve leaned forward into it. "Thank you for coming."

"I will - Steve?" Tony waited until their eyes met. "I will always come. You can trust me."

It was too much. The adrenaline of the night and the rush of all the food and clothes and people, mixed with the fear and relief of Hodge and Tony - it was too much. In that moment, Steve was so grateful to have Tony standing beside him - of all the horrible people he could end up shackled to - and a twisted guilt gripped his gut that he could ever have thought Tony would punish him for something like that. He was grateful - so grateful - and they were alone together and Tony was his alpha and maybe - maybe things could be _ like that  _ after all, and Steve leaned forward, eyes dropping closed lips parting, and offered himself to Tony in a kiss.

He hung there, chin tipped up, eyes closed, lips ready, and waited for his first kiss. 

And waited.

"Steve…" Tony said, and oh god, he sounded sad, but worst of all, he sounded  _ sorry.  _ Steve withered in on himself, dropping his chin to his chest and taking in a shaky breath. "You don't have to do that. That's not what this is. I don't want anything from you - not like that. I'll protect you, if you need it, if you want it, but not in exchange for something."

Right. Because this wasn't one of Steve's romance novels. And Tony didn't want him that way. He cared about him, a little, maybe in a sort of brotherly way, and Steve - head in the clouds from the ridiculous trash he read - twisted it into something else just because he was so damn lonely, and so sick of being unlovable. Steve could only see things from his dot on the horizon, but Tony's was so, so far away, and on the other side of things.

Of course, Tony didn't want him that way. 

God, this was  _ humiliating.  _

Steve swallowed back a lump and took a careful step out of Tony's space. "Sorry."

"Oh, come on," Tony said softly, "you don't have to -"

"I'm really tired. I don't know what I'm thinking - doing. I'm just - can I go to bed?" Steve begged.

Tony's expression twisted up with pity. "Of course. You sure you don't want another cheese puff? If I eat all these myself I won't fit in my suit anymore. And there really is Phish Food."

"No, thanks. Thank you. And thank you for tonight. It was lovely. Mostly. Anyway. Thank you. Sorry." Steve turned and fled.

He charged all the way to his room, shed his clothes - which he left in a pile on the main bed - and launched himself into his sitting room. He shut the door, dragged a box in front of it and crawled under the covers on his futon. 

His heart raced. He kept thinking about Tony's hand on the back of his neck that morning and the soft way he said,  _ I'll always come.  _ This was probably what a yoyo felt like. Heat was still buzzing through his veins, and Steve was so wound up he knew he was never going to be able to sleep like this. But he needed to sleep, escape, even just for a few hours, so he rolled onto his back and let his hand snake down between his legs, seeking release and relief and a little blissful mindlessness. 

Images flashed through his mind - the alphas from his books mostly, the way he pictured them, clutching their omegas to them with desperate, grasping love. Iron Man… the suit of armour opening to reveal an alpha, beautiful and strong and wanting Steve so much that keeping the secret of his identity didn't matter.

And then, just before he found release: Tony, changing his mind about Steve, wanting him, pressing those clever fingers to the back of Steve's neck and  _ squeezing.  _


	6. Chapter 6

Steve woke up soaked in sweat from head to toe, the sheets clinging to every inch of him, and his skin burned, itchy and inflamed. When he shifted to sit up, a fresh rush of slick soaked his thighs, his ass cheeks sliding together. He could feel his pulse hard and heavy between his legs.

He was in heat.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." It was over two months early, but he hadn't taken his damn suppressants. Tony had expressly told him to take them, and instead he'd waffled and debated every time he saw the bottle, promising himself he'd start taking them soon, and now it was too late. "Shit."

Last night rushed back in, bringing a wave of shame with it. He'd been in pre-heat at the party. God, it was mortifying. Did everyone notice? Is that why Hodge had come on to him?

Steve climbed out of bed, groaning at the way it made his head spin and his body throb. He stumbled to the bathroom, leaving the sheets a mess, and grabbed the pill bottle. "JARVIS, what will happen if I take these now?"

"Taking suppressants while in heat is not advisable, sir. It's recommended that a new course of suppressants be started two weeks to three months before a heat. At this stage, you'll be at risk of blood clots or heart attack, but it won't interrupt a heat that has already started."

"Fuck.  _ Dammit!  _ Steve, you're such an idiot," he snapped at himself.

Tony was going to be so mad. And rightfully so. It explained why all the alphas were sniffing around him the night before. He'd made a fool of himself and of Tony, wafting around the party with a Fuck Me sign pasted to his back. And now he was in heat in his alpha's house, and he had nowhere to go. For all his "I won't take advantage of you" there was no way Tony would be able to resist making use of his "bonding privilege" with Steve sweating horniness out of every pore.

Of course, in order to realize Steve was in heat, Tony would have to get close enough to him to smell it. For all Steve knew, Tony was in Japan, or Greece, or India. Or his workshop, which seemed just as far away most days. Maybe Steve could just hide out until it was over, then clean everything in his bedroom, and Tony would never know. It was a good plan. 

Steve stripped his pajamas off and started a pile in the corner of the bathroom. He ran the shower cold and stood under it until the contrast of cold water on hot skin made him want to throw up and he stepped out and dried off. His back ached with cramps and no matter how many times he rinsed off, a new wave of arousal would flush through him moments later and send a tsunami of slick down the insides of his thighs, drawing desperate moans with it. His body called for something he'd never had and he squeezed his legs together and his eyes shut, shaking through the rush. 

But he'd done this before. The pain and need were just mind over matter; everything else was waiting it out. He changed into fresh boxers and a t-shirt and went to his bookshelf. All of his romances were too titillating with his body in the state he was in, so he grabbed the interior design book JARVIS had ordered as a cover and took it to the bathroom. He climbed in the tub with the fan on high. Hopefully that would be enough to mask the scent.

"JARVIS, is Tony in the tower today?" Steve would have to pick the times to grab food carefully, not that he was particularly hungry.

"Yes, sir. He's currently in the workshop."

"Great. You haven't told him, have you?"

"I'm not authorized to share personal information, including medical status, with anyone, except in the case of a life-or-death emergency or if given permission by the person in question."

"Okay. Okay. Thank you." Steve settled in with his book.

To its credit, the book wasn't actually that bad. And when up against the endless crashing waves of heat Steve was suffering through, it took a lot to hold his attention. Steve focused as much as he could on the discussions of fabric textures and colour combinations, pausing when he had to to whimper through an especially bad cramp, his hips rolling and writhing of their own accord. 

Steve's stomach started churning with an acidic mix of nausea and hunger, but he was too afraid to go out and risk the trip to the kitchen with Tony in the penthouse. 

He was getting a little too close to the end of his book for comfort, when a knock on the bedroom door stopped his heart in his chest. 

"Steve?"

Shit, shit, shit. Tony was at the door and he'd know Steve was inside and if he didn't answer… but if he did answer? What could be possibly say to get Tony to go away? The bathroom door was cracked. If Tony came in - 

The bedroom door creaked open. "Steve? You in here?"

Steve leapt out of the tub and made a mad dash for the bathroom door, but before he reached it, Tony appeared. Steve could see his eyes go wide as his nostrils flared, and then Steve threw himself against the door, slamming it shut. 

So now he'd gone into heat, after his alpha had specifically told him not to by giving him suppressants, and then slammed a door in his face. Today was going wonderfully.

"Holy shit, Steve." There was a thump on the other side of the door. "Oh my god, you smell like a candy factory. Shit. What's wrong? Are you in heat? You shouldn't be. The supps were prescribed, what? A month ago? At least. Do I need to call Dr. Harris? Steve?" Tony knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Steve choked out. "I'm - I'm fine. Please don't call the doctor. I'm okay. It's not - it's not his medicine. It's me." Tears spilled out over Steve's cheeks and he couldn't hold them back. He crawled back into the tub and buried his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I'm so sorry. Please don't be angry. It's all my fault."

"What's your fault, Steve? What's wrong? What happened? Can I please come in?"

"No! No, I don't want that. And you said you don't want that and I should have - should -sh -" A great hiccuping sob wriggled its way out of Steve's chest. "I'm so sorry."

"Steve, honey, I feel like you're having a little bit of a panic attack in there and I'd really like to come in and make sure you're okay."

"No! No… I'm in h-heat. I'm sorry."

"I know you are. It's okay. We can just talk better without this door in the way." Tony knocked once on the door. "But I won't come in without your permission."

"I don't need help with it," Steve managed to say. "I know you don't want to. And it's okay because I've done this before by myself and it was fine. And as soon as it's done, I'll take the medicine and it won't happen again, okay? I'm really sorry."

Tony sighed, and Steve was struck with the distinct - and by now achingly familiar - feeling that he was disappointing him deeply. There was a soft thump like a forehead or fist hitting the door gently. "Can I please come in, Steve? I promise I won't touch you. I just need to make sure you're okay."

He'd heard that line before,  _ I promise I won't touch you,  _ but with Tony, he was inclined to believe it, somehow. "Okay...." Maybe there was a part of him that needed to test Tony's word. If he broke his promise, it would only be expected from an alpha, something Steve could never have avoided anyway. And if he kept it…

And right now, if he was completely honest with himself? There was a little part of him that wanted Tony to break it, and it was the part of him currently pumping out a 102 degree fever.

The door creaked open and Tony's face appeared around it. Steve curled up in one end of the tub, arms wrapped around his knees. He'd already soaked solidly through his boxers and sweated through his t-shirt, but there wasn't anything he could do now to make himself any more presentable. "I'm sorry."

"So you keep saying. Can I come closer?" Tony held his hands up, palms out. "Won't touch."

Steve nodded and Tony crossed the bathroom floor and sunk down to crouch at the edge of the tub, one elbow folded over the edge.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "In pain?"

"Just normal pain for a heat," Steve muttered.

"Okay, good. No bleeding?"

"No bleeding. Just - " Steve cut himself off, ears heating. His body throbbed out another rush of hot slick.

Tony's nostrils flared. "Okay. So this is a surprise, but not one we can't handle. We'll just -"

"I'm so sorry," Steve choked out, interrupting Tony. His heart startled crawling up his throat. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. You told me to take them and got the doctor to get them for me, which I'm sure wasn't easy, and I really meant to, honest! I just got kind of scared and I wasn't due for another month so I thought I had time to do more research, but I guess -"

"Shh, shh." Tony's hand twitched towards Steve then fell back to his side. "Calm down, Steve. It's okay. I gave you the suppressants so you'd have the  _ choice  _ to take them. Not because you had to. If you wanted to have your heat, that's okay. I don't really understand why, but I just need to know you're alright. Are you alright?"

"I - I don't know."

"Well, that's better than a no, I suppose. And you - uh - don't need any...  _ assistance  _ to help you through this?" Tony cleared his throat heavily.

"No! No, I'm fine. You don't have to do that." Steve dropped his eyes to his hands. It was getting uncomfortable in the tub, but he didn't want to move, knowing he'd release a huge cloud of his scent when he did, probably sending Tony into overdrive. For that matter - why was Tony so cool headed? "Aren't you bothered? By the way I smell?"

Tony breathed in deeply. "You smell like Werther's Originals. It's lovely." He dropped his chin to his folded arm.

"But - uh - you can control yourself?"

Tony gave Steve a sharp look. "Steve, any alpha who says he can't control himself around an omega in heat is just looking for an excuse for unconscionable behaviour. Do you smell incredible? Yes. Is my body reacting to that? Yes. Can I control myself?  _ Of course.  _ I won't touch you unless you want me to. I promise. I do think we should get you somewhere more comfortable, though. And get some electrolytes in you. Would that be okay?"

Steve's head was spinning, but all he knew was that his back hurt, his butt hurt, he was wet and hot-cold and sticky, and there was a draw to Tony that made him want to crawl over the edge of the tub into Tony's lap, curl up there, and never move. "Okay."

Steve breathed in and out then braced his hands on either side of the tub and hauled himself up. It was humiliating. Slick soaked the back of his boxers and made them cling to his butt and thighs, no doubt highlighting the sad excuses for curves he could claim. Even he could smell the way his heat-scent flooded the room, permeating every absorbent surface and following him in a cloud of sickly-sweet need. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Tony said, sounding strained for the first time. "You're okay. Here we go." Tony held out his arm and Steve gripped it, worried about slipping in the tub and humiliating himself even further. The last thing he needed was a trip to the ER while in heat. He let Tony take his weight as he stepped out onto the tile floor then released his arm immediately, pulling the hem of his t-shirt down to try and cover the bulge in his boxers. Tony cleared his throat again and let his eyes drift up over Steve's shoulder. He gestured towards the bathroom door.

Steve turned, his back to Tony, and his mind flooded with thoughts of Tony's hand on the back of his neck, pushing him down to the floor and covering over him from behind. He could just slide right in… Steve whimpered as another pulse of arousal drenched his shorts from both sides. His cock was so hard it ached, but he knew touching wouldn't bring any relief. The only thing that would help was a knot, and those kinds of toys were incredibly expensive. Steve had tried other things, getting through eight heats on his own, but it was like his body knew it wasn't real. He pushed through the door into his bedroom, wishing to god he'd put pants on.

"Here." Tony opened a drawer in his dresser and pulled out fresh boxers and a pair of sweatpants. "Do you need so- wait a second..." Tony froze, staring down into Steve's dresser drawer.

"Tony, I can do that." Steve moved towards him, reaching out to shut the drawer, but Tony held it open, frowning inside. Then he grabbed the closet door and wrenched it open. 

"Where are all your clothes?"

Steve clutched the sweatpants in front of him. "That's… that's all my clothes."

"What are you talking about?" Tony went to the next drawer down, then the next. "These are empty."

"They're not empty," Steve grumbled, hackles rising. "Those are my clothes. It's fine. That's all I need."

"That's all you  _ need?  _ Steve… you're a millionaire, how do you only have three pairs of pants?"

"What?" The heat was swirling through Steve's brain, confusing him and making the room spin. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Even if you weren't, you have four credit cards in my name. How have you not bought more clothes? JARVIS said you were shopping."

"I - uh - I bought some books…" A new kind of heat was prinkling the back of Steve's eyelids. He was sure he'd done something wrong but he didn't know what. "I'm sorry."

Tony opened his mouth as if to argue back, then snapped it shut. He shook his head. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter. Let's get you more comfortable. Change your pants. I'll be right back."

"Okay." Steve waited until Tony was out of the room then kicked off his sodden boxers and rubbed himself down with a towel then pulled on the clean clothes. He was just finishing tying the pulls around his waist to keep the sweatpants from falling down when Tony knocked on the door then stuck his head in. Seeing Steve decent, he walked in and tossed a piece of blue fabric to Steve. 

He shook it out to find it was a shirt - one of Tony's - faded and well worn. AC/DC, with tour dates on the back. "What's this for?"

"I sleep in it. It's drenched with my pheromones. Studies show that trusted alpha scent can help with heat symptoms. But you don't have to wear it. Just wanted to give you the option. I'm going to get the couch ready for you downstairs, okay?"

"Um. Okay." Well, that explained why he always found Bucky's lingering presence in his apartment so comforting. 

Tony walked out again, and Steve was left holding the shirt. Without really thinking about it, he drew the fabric to his face and breathed in deeply. "Holy shit." Steve couldn't stop sucking the scent of Tony into his lungs. It was like a sip of ginger ale with a stomach ache. He felt instant relief flood through his body. Deciding that shame was for people who weren't currently leaking fluid all over the carpet, he peeled off his own sweat-drenched shirt and pulled on Tony's. It was huge on him, hanging low over his hips, but he could still smell it and it was like being wrapped in a hug. Steve had intended to spend most of the day in the bathroom, but Tony had told him to come downstairs so he grabbed a clean towel and shuffled out after him.

Tony was in the living room on the phone, but he gestured towards the couch when he saw Steve. Steve rounded the corner to find Tony had already lined the couch with towels. Steve sat carefully in the middle of the nest Tony had made and draped the other towel over his lap, hiding his never-flagging erection.

"Yeah, I dunno," Tony said into the phone. "Few days, I guess. Nah, it's fine." He shot a glance at Steve. "Mhm. Sure. See ya." Tony hung up. "How're you feeling?"

Steve shrugged. "Sweaty. Thanks for the shirt. It's… nice."

Tony smiled. "Good. Do you have something you can take? Motrin? HeatX?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't really get bad cramps so I never bother with Motrin. And I could never afford HeatX, so I've never tried it."

"JARVIS check contraindications with Steve's medical history and current medications then order whatever he can use OTC for heat relief."

"You don't have to do that, Tony. It's okay. I'll just wait it out."

"It's up to you if you take them or not." Tony disappeared into the kitchen. "J - make sure no one comes over. I mean no one. If an alpha so much as sniffs in the general vicinity of the elevator, I want you to call Happy."

"Yes sir."

There were sounds of the fridge opening and closing, a cutlery drawer, then a minute later, Tony appeared with a bowl of vanilla ice cream and a blue Gatorade that Steve was one hundred percent sure hadn't been in the kitchen the day before. "Here."

"Thank you." Steve took the drink and twisted the top off. It came off easily; Tony had already cracked the seal for him. Steve picked at the orange plastic ring that now spun freely around the mouth of the bottle. There was something in that, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. But now Tony was just standing there and he was sitting there, probably soaking right through the towels and staining the couch, and Tony was just  _ standing there.  _

"I can go," Tony finally said, voice twisted. "I mean -" He sat down at the other end of the couch. "Do you feel safe with me here?"

Steve pondered the question. A month ago, he would have lied and said yes. Two weeks ago, he would have told the truth and said no. Today… "Yes. It's fine. I'm not afraid of you being here. I know you won't… do anything." Because Tony wasn't interested in him that way. Not even when he was a pheromone factory. So Steve was safe. His body clenched again, rushing tingling arousal through him, and he squeezed his legs together. Tony had passed the test and Steve was going to very carefully ignore the way that felt like a failure.

"Do you  _ want  _ me to go, though? I can leave and lock down the elevator. You'll be alone. JARVIS can order food for you, look after you."

"I'm - I don't really want to be alone," Steve said, realizing it was true as the words fell out of his mouth. "I was always alone…"

"Eight heats alone?"

Steve nodded.

"Ah. I thought, you know, that you might have had someone to help you."

Steve shook his head, emphatically. How could Tony think that about him? How could Tony think that about him and still want to bond with him? "No. No way. I knew the odds of me bonding were pretty much nil after the third heat, but I just - I wanted…" He shook his head.

"But there are ways you can meet people, services..? Maybe you would have found a bondmate that way?"

Steve shook his head again. "The stuff that's available for free isn't safe at all. There's no background checks. It's just - no. And with no family to advocate for me, if anything went wrong… Anyway, I've heard of family-less omegas ending up in heat houses or pregnant and alone, or whatever. And then, on the off chance I did meet someone who wanted to bond with me, they definitely wouldn't if they knew what I'd done. I promise - there's been no one."

Tony looked a little taken aback at that. "I believe you. I just know it takes a lot of strength to get through it, so no one could possibly blame you. It's not like I was trying to catch you in a lie - I don't really care if you lied on your Registry forms."

Steve shrugged. "Not like you  _ can  _ lie, not for that one."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, that part of the form isn't filled out by the omega. It's part of the medical."

Tony blinked for a full four beats. "Excuse me?"

There was anger laced in his tone that made Steve want to curl away from him, but he just gripped the gatorade bottle harder and forced himself to stay still. Moving would just flood the room with even more of his heat scent anyway. "Uh, yes. Every omega on OS needs to have a complete medical first. You can actually be denied services if you've been knotted. I hear it depends which service worker is assigned to your case, but in some states, it's really hard to get services if you have been. They mark you as bonded, even if you're not, and if you can't produce your alpha's paperwork, they deny you for lack of necessary information."

"Jesus."

Steve felt an old anger well up in his chest. He wanted to snap back that there was a whole world of suffering out there that Tony had no clue about, on his alpha throne in his golden tower, but he was heat-weak - tired and head fuzzy - and he didn't want to start a fight, especially since he could feel anger radiating off of Tony now and he didn't know who it was directed at.

Tony stood up abruptly and walked out, and Steve let him go without a word, but only a few minutes later, Tony was back, settling on the couch - a little closer this time - with an ice cream bowl of his own. There was caramel sauce drizzled heavily over the top of it. "Looked good," he muttered. "TV?"

"Sure."

Tony turned on the TV and clicked around for a while, pausing on the news until they started a piece on Iron Man and then he jumped to a movie channel playing some action, heist thing and set the remote aside. Steve worked his way through the ice cream and the Gatorade, finding both to be more soothing than he expected. The heat was coming in waves now, still just lapping at the shore. Tomorrow would be the worst of it, then it would taper off - maybe two more days of mild discomfort before it was over. 

Steve let himself doze a bit. The movie was pleasant background noise, and removed any awkwardness about not talking, but he didn't really care about following the story. His mind kept wandering back to his novels, wondering what Sébastien and Max would get up to next, or Remy and Theo. But thoughts of the couples just made his body hum and throb more, slick leaking down to smooth the slide of his thighs together. A sudden thought had Steve lifting his head up. "Don't you need to work?"

Tony shrugged. "I took the day off."

"What? No, no. Tony, you don't need to take time off for me."

"I could use the break. It's fine."

Steve didn't want to argue, so he snapped his mouth shut. It still nibbled at him, that Tony felt the need to take time off for his heat, though. Why? It seemed pretty clear that Tony wouldn't be indulging in any of his alpha privileges, despite Steve all but staking a sign outside his bedroom door that read, "Take me now, Big Boy," and there wasn't another obvious reason besides Tony just being generally concerned about leaving Steve alone. 

The tower was well-protected, though. He had nothing to worry about.

A chime pulled Tony to his feet and Steve out of his roiling thoughts. "That'll be your meds," Tony said. He went to the elevator and came back, frowning at the bag.

"What's wrong?"

"Hmm?" Tony startled up as if out of a trance. "Oh. Uh, nothing. Just… smells like alpha," he rumbled, lip curling. He tossed the bag to Steve who sat up to open it, a new wave of slick rushing between his legs as he moved.

Inside was a bottle of Advil, two boxes of HeatX - daytime and nighttime - and -

"Oh my god." Steve squeezed the bag shut, clutching it to his chest, trying to shove it down into his nest of blankets.

Tony quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"JARVIS maybe took you too literally."

"What is it?" Tony sat down again and leaned towards Steve, trying to dig down in the blankets to grab the bag. "What is it?"

Tony's hand brushed Steve's ankle and a hot rush of arousal pumped through him. He released the bag, all but throwing it at Tony, to keep him from touching him more. Tony grinned in triumph and opened the bag, peering down into it. Then he laughed, loud and silly and real. "Oh my god." He pulled out the box and read the label. "'Vibrating Alpha Knot with RealSkin™ Technology!' Wow." He waved the boxed dildo at Steve who shoved his face into the blanket.

"Tony, stop! Oh my god."

"That's impressive. RealSkin™ Technology. Huh." He turned the box over and started reading the back like it was a cereal box.

"I can't believe JARVIS had that ordered. Oh my god. It'll be on your credit card statement. Someone  _ bought that and brought it here. _ "

"Come on, Steve." Tony turned the box around, admiring the photograph of the virile alpha on the side of the box. Steve watched out of the corner of his eye, face still hidden in the blanket. "Eight heats in, you can't tell me you don't already -"

Steve emerged from the blanket, mouth hanging open, and glared at Tony, willing him to finish that statement.

Tony dropped the box back in the bag. "Guess not." After a bit more rummaging, Tony produced a box of sanitary towels, a cooling pad, a box of supplements that claimed to reduce the intensity of a heat, and a package of vibrating stickers that were supposed to ease the pain of cramps. Once he'd revealed everything, Tony tucked it all back in the bag - including the knotting dildo - and handed it back to Steve. "Want to take it up to your room and figure out what you want to take? I'll be here if you want to come back down and watch more TV. I can order lunch too, if you know what you want."

"Oh, um. Anything's fine. Nothing spicy, please."

"Alright."

Eager to retreat, Steve gathered the bag in his arms and all but teleported up to his room. He dumped the contents on the bed and stared at it, his eyes drawn back to the sex toy. It was a large, silicone penis with a swelling knot at the end, shaped to be as realistic as possible, though it was a lurid shade of green. Caught between throwing it out and opening the box, Steve shoved the whole thing in the bottom drawer of his nightstand and pushed its existence firmly from his mind.

He changed his clothes again, though he kept Tony's t-shirt on, and lined his underwear with one of the sanitary towels. He read the packaging and opted to take two Advils, a daytime HeatX and one of the supplements. His cramps weren't bad so he ignored the stickers, but he took the cooling pad back downstairs with him. 

Tony was on the phone on the balcony, so Steve plugged the cooling pad in and settled back on the couch, folding the towels and blankets around him in a comfy nest, waiting quietly until Tony came back in. "I ordered sandwiches and salads. Figured you'd rather have something cold."

"Sounds good. Thank you."

Tony slid the balcony door closed and settled on the other end of the couch again, smiling. "Took some meds?"

Steve nodded. "Yes. It says twenty minutes to kick in."

"Good." Tony picked up the remote again. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything." Steve nestled down in the blankets, sleep pulling at his edges again. Tony clicked around for a while then settled on a murder mystery show. When the food came, he got up to fetch it and brought Steve back a chicken sandwich and a kale and clementine salad. The food made Steve realize how quesy he'd been feeling, churning nothing but acid, ice cream, and Gatorade in his stomach, and as soon as he was full, he fell fast asleep, his legs hanging over the arm of the couch, his body curled up in a C on the cushions. 

He woke swimming in the delicious scent of alpha. Steve shuffled closer to it, breathing it in. God, it was so good. His body throbbed with need and he rolled on the couch, moaning softly at the friction he found once he was on his belly. He pushed closer to the tantalizing smell. He wanted to wrap himself up in that smell and never come out. A hand landed on the back of his head and he nuzzled into it with a soft whine. He just  _ wanted  _ and everything was warm and safe and  _ alpha.  _

The word must have slipped through his lips because Tony made a choked sound above him and Steve shocked all the way awake, eyes springing open. He was halfway in Tony's lap, all but rubbing off on the couch cushion while he shoved his way bodily into Tony's space. Tony had one hand on the arm of the couch, fingers dug into the fabric, knuckles white. His other hand cupped the back of Steve's head, not tightly enough to hurt, but firmly enough that it was mortifyingly clear he was keeping a half-asleep Steve from faceplanting into his crotch.

"Oh god." Steve started scrambling back, shoving at Tony as he hastened to get away. "I'm so sorry."

"'S okay," Tony said tightly. "No problem."

Steve wrapped a towel around himself and crammed as far into the opposite corner of the couch as he could manage. His cheeks were so hot he was worried his skin would start to crack. First, Tony had made it clear that their relationship was purely business. Then, Steve had tried to kiss him. Then, he'd tried to heat-bait him. And now, he was trying to crawl into his lap and accost him. Tony probably thought he was the stupidest omega on the planet, completely unable to take a hint. 

As soon as it was late enough to be reasonable, Steve muttered something about an early night and went upstairs. He was wobbly, but he gripped the handle in the shower enclosure and rinsed off with the coldest water he could manage before he knocked back two nighttime HeatX and climbed onto his futon. It was a long time before he fell asleep, tossing and turning and resisting the urge to rut down against the mattress, resisting the other urge to go to the bedroom and peek in the bottom drawer where a certain box still sat untouched. Tony didn't want him, there really was no reason to abstain anymore, but it still didn't feel right somehow, and it wasn't a decision he wanted to make while he was all twisted up in a heat.

So Steve shoved his face in his pillow to catch the moans he couldn't hold back and waited until exhaustion overpowered discomfort and he fell asleep.

**

The next day hit even harder. Steve spent most of it curled up in the fetal position on the couch, watching action movies with as much of his attention as he could spare, because every time he let his mind wander, it went back to Sébastien, the alpha from his novel. Only this time, it wasn't Max he was making love to under an oak tree in the dappled light of a spring afternoon, it was  _ Steve.  _ And his body throbbed to life whenever the thought crossed his mind. 

About halfway through the day, Sébastien started alternating places with Iron Man in his fantasies, who apparently had a special crotch plate on his armour that allowed him to "take care" of Steve without revealing his identity.

Steve moaned as a particularly bad wave washed over him and he flushed, prickling from head to toe. 

"You okay?" Tony crouched down next to the couch. 

Steve nodded, swallowed heavily. "It's fine. Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Tony reached out, hesitated for a moment, then brushed Steve's hair back away from his face. His skin was cool and smelled enticing and Steve leaned into the touch. "Cool bath?" Tony offered.

"Probably a good idea."

Tony helped him upstairs then started the bath running. Steve lay curled on the end of the bed, watching him bend over the faucets through the open door of the bathroom. Nothing with Tony really made sense, did it? Here Steve was, in heat, and instead of seeking his own pleasure, Tony was running a bath for Steve, fussing over him, feeding him. It was all backwards. And it was all things Steve wanted to do for Tony when he wasn't "in the throes" but Tony resisted it at every turn. Well. Not for Tony, but for his alpha. On the principle of the matter. His alpha in theory.

Who. Well. In practice, was -

Tony.

Steve blinked at him as he reappeared in the room. 

"Are you due for HeatX?"

"Probably." Steve peered at the clock on the night stand. "Yeah, but it's too late or I'll have to stay up waiting for the nighttime."

"Take the nighttime now, and turn in early."

"It  _ really  _ knocked me out last night."

"Good. You need the sleep. It's okay, I won't let you drown. You shouldn't be in the tub for more than twenty minutes, anyway."

"Okay." Steve went to his medicine cabinet and found the blister pack of HeatX. He popped out a blue pill and swallowed it with a handful of water cupped from the tap. The tub was full so he stripped down to his boxers, wrapped a heavy towel around his waist, and climbed in. If he was going to pass out in the tub and need Tony to rescue him, he wasn't going to do it naked.

Tony sat on the floor in the doorway, close enough to watch Steve over the rim of the tub, but not close enough to see in. "What's it feel like?" he asked.

Steve sighed as the cool water swirled around him and soothed his aching skin. "The heat?"

"Yeah."

"Uh. Feels like… well, hot, haha. Like a fever. But it's coupled with these bursts of energy that make you want to just - ah - well, you know. You crave touch, any kind. Certain things smell really good and some smell really bad. Everything you imagine becomes really vivid - technicolour daydreams. It hurts, but it's also kind of… nice?"

Tony hummed. "Is that why you wanted to have one?"

Steve splashed a bit, shifting so the cool water would rush between his legs and pull the heat away, rinsing off the sticky sweat. "I guess. I don't know. The supplements scared me a bit, I suppose. But also… you know, I'm pretty sick. And sometimes it feels like… like I can't be a -" Steve cut off, throat suddenly rough. "Like I can't be a real omega. With everything else that's wrong with me, I wouldn't be surprised if  _ that _ didn't work either. And I know it doesn't matter, cause it's not, you know -" Steve waved away any idea of him and Tony being like that, having kids, sharing heats. "But it's just nice to be reminded that some part of me works like it's supposed to."

Tony's palm went to his chest and his fingers dug in a bit, his eyes staying fixed firmly on the floor. "I know how that feels. I know that's hard to believe, but I really do." He tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes closed. "You feel safe here, right? Like, you won't mind having your heats here? Cause if you're scared or uncertain, or anything, I can get you somewhere else, somewhere private to go."

Steve chuckled softly. "A heat den?"

Tony snorted. "I mean, no one calls them that anymore, but sure."

"I didn't think omegas had sitting rooms anymore, either."

"No?" Tony turned to look at him and Steve sunk down further in the bath. The cold water was finally starting to penetrate the heat and leave him chilled.

"Nope. No one I know has enough rooms to have one. Though I know a few omegas who turned a walk-in closet or something into one, but among my friends, those are pretty rare too."

Tony smiled, softly. "Well, I'm glad you have yours. Still redecorating?"

Steve shrugged, a distant thought about money and paintings trying to wiggle in, then a shiver rushed through him. "I'm -" His head spun, eyes heavy.

"All done?" Tony pushed up to his feet.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I feel better."

"Okay." Tony disappeared in the bedroom for a moment and Steve heard drawers opening and closing. He winced again at the thought of Tony seeing his meagre collection of clothes again, but Tony returned with pajama pants and a t-shirt and lay them on the bathroom counter. He found a big towel in the linen cupboard and held it up as Steve stepped out, wrapping it around him. Tony slipped out of the bathroom and let Steve dry himself off and get dressed. Every movement felt like it was through quicksand, his limbs heavy and sluggish. He opened the door and found Tony sitting on the end of the bed, waiting.

"I think the HeatX is kicking in," Steve said with a yawn.

"Do you want to go to bed now or finish our movie from this afternoon, first?"

"Movie. Though I'll probably fall asleep on the couch."

"That's okay. I'll bring you up if you do."

"Okay." Steve leaned on Tony's arm as they walked out of the bedroom and down to the living room where he was reinstalled on the couch. The relief of the cold bath was melting into the relief of the HeatX and Steve almost felt normal, if a bit sleepy. He curled up on the couch with his head on the middle cushion and Tony sat next to him. About ten minutes into the movie, Tony's hand landed on his back and stayed there, rubbing slow, easy circles.

A new hand brushed through Steve's hair and he startled awake. Tony was crouched in front of him now and the movie credits were playing.

"You're okay, honey. Let's get you to bed."

"I'm sorry, Tony," Steve slurred. "Should have taken the suppressants."

"No, no. If you didn't want to, then I don't want you to take them. It's fine. Have all the heats you want. I'll forego the Vicks Vaporub and tie myself to the mast like Odysseus twice a year, if I have to. It's your choice." Tony hooked his arms under Steve's knees and around his shoulders and lifted him up. 

"Do you really have Vaporub under your nose?" Steve slurred.

"A whole tub of the stuff."

"Oh."

"You smell really, really good," Tony whispered, almost like it was a secret. 

"Like caramel candies?"

"Yup."

Steve grinned. The room was soft and floaty around him. "Okay. Good," he said, nonsensically. The next thing he registered was his back hitting the mattress of the real bed - not the futon - and Tony tucking the duvet in around him. 

"Sleep well."

"G'night." It floated through Steve's mind that Tony might have called him "honey" at one point, but he couldn't be sure. He closed his eyes and the world disappeared.

**

The next two days went by in a haze of cold showers, restless nights, and daytime TV. Tony kept his distance, now that Steve was so sleep deprived he was barely able to carry on a conversation, let alone keep his hands to himself, though he brought food and ice cream and cold coffee a few times a day. Steve woke up on the third morning feeling the post-heat chills settle in. His teeth chattered, and somehow in the night, he'd pulled the duvet back up on the bed. He sat up, shivering, and checked his phone. It was eight, which was late for him, and his stomach growled.

He pulled on Tony's t-shirt, telling himself it was because it was the most convenient piece of clothing at hand and not because the smell was still comforting, and his sweatpants, then layered a sweater over top. There was a knitted throw on the back of the armchair in the corner of the room and he added that, wrapping it around his shoulders. He was finally starting to feel warm again. 

Food was an insistent necessity, so he made his way down to the kitchen, but stopped short when he found Tony sitting at the table, wearing glasses of all things, and typing on a laptop. "Oh there you are. How're you feeling?"

"Better." Steve was suddenly very aware that he was wearing Tony's t-shirt, and without the excuse of the heat. He pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders and shuffled to the fridge and peeked inside. There was milk left and cereal, so he pulled both out and poured a small bowl. He took a seat a few feet from Tony and settled in to eat, but Tony pulled his glasses off and closed his laptop. He sighed.

"We need to talk about money."

_ Fuck.  _ Steve went perfectly still. This was it. Tony was finally going to get mad about the art supplies, finally tell Steve off for doing the groceries wrong. And it sucked - his heart was somewhere down in his shoes and his breath was coming tightly, fighting against the iron bands around his lungs, but at least it would soon be over. Tony would finally tell him what he was doing wrong. "Okay," he said carefully.

"What have you bought?"

Steve couldn't make his mouth move, couldn't get words out. He half shrugged, setting his spoon back down in his bowl. It would be easier, in some ways, if Tony would just hit him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound accusatory." Tony scrubbed his hand over his face. "I more meant what  _ haven't  _ you bought? You need clothes, surely, and I dunno toothpaste? Food? I opened the fridge and there's practically nothing in there - what are you living on? I asked JARVIS if you were shopping and he said yes, and it seems you took some cash from the office, but like - why do your shoes have holes in them? I mean, I don't know omega fashion, maybe that's all the rage right now, but I can't help thinking you look, well... cold."

"I'm sorry," was all Steve could choke out. "I didn't even think about how I looked, how I'd make you look, if I didn't have nicer clothes, put more work into my appearance, I'm just - I'm not really sure how…"

"Well, if you want clothes and you don't want to do the work of finding them, just use my personal shopper. She'll take your measurements then send a bunch of stuff over and you send back whatever you don't want."

Steve took a deep breath then decided to just go for it. "Tony, I'm really sorry, but I'm so confused. I've been trying really hard, but JARVIS wouldn't tell me the food budget and I don't know how to buy things without him so I took some cash and went to the grocery store, but then you didn't eat any of the things I made for you and the cleaning people take it all away so I can't save any leftovers and I really just don't know what you want from me!" Steve's voice pitched way too high and rose way too loud but he could feel his heart in his throat and he really,  _ really,  _ didn't want to cry in front of Tony; he didn't know what to do.

"Shit, Steve, keep breathing." Tony leaned in close and covered Steve's hand with one of his. "Do you need your inhaler?"

Steve shook his head. 

"Okay. Shit. Okay. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry. Didn't - uh - didn't Pepper explain all the money stuff to you when she gave you the tour?"

Steve cleared his throat carefully. "Um. Pepper didn't give me a tour? You - you gave me the tour… my first night here. I don't remember you saying anything about money."

"Oh. Fuck me." He dropped his face down into his hand. "And then Happy gave you your phone?"

"Yes, and a security badge. But he also didn't say anything about money."

"Right, okay. Well, I'm the worst person who ever lived, but you're going to forgive me because I'm also very pathetic and deserve the sympathy."

Steve just stared at him.   


"Okay, jury's still out on the forgiveness, but at least I can give you the rundown now, albeit a few weeks too late. You have your phone?"

"I'll get it." Steve scrambled to his feet and launched himself out of the room. The last thing he wanted to do was go back downstairs once he had his phone, but even more, he didn't want to keep Tony waiting. He rushed back downstairs, phone clutched to his chest. "Here." Steve dropped it on the table, waiting for Tony to open it and go through it, but he didn't reach for it.

"There's an app on there, StarkWallet. It's already set up to connect to your bank account -"   


"I use the OBank app to check my bank account."

"I mean your new bank account. The one I set up for you when we bonded."

"You set up a bank account for me?"

"Of course? What were you supposed to live on, the change from the couch cushions?" Tony waved a hand then inclined his head, as if conceding a point. "Okay, to be fair, I actually didn't think to do that until your crack to me about not owning half my stuff, after all. I got my lawyers on it and they said the best way to protect you was to try and build assets in your name. It's mostly trusts and stuff, but they're doing everything they can to make it as free and clear as possible. So I set up the account and funnelled in as much as I could without hitting gift limits. It's set up to automatically deposit the max allowed before taxes kick in, but if you need more, just let JARVIS know and he'll authorize a higher transaction." As he spoke, Tony picked up Steve's phone and opened it, flipping to the StarkWallet app. It prompted for a new password and Tony handed it to Steve. "Pick something you'll remember."

Steve took the phone and hovered his thumb over the screen, thinking. Tony had averted his eyes, fingers drumming on the table. Steve typed in BrooklynBucky1986 and hit enter. 

A screen popped up with an account list. There was a chequing account and then four credit cards. The credit cards had a balance of zero, but the chequing account didn't have a balance, instead it had just the account number. It - 

"Wait. Holy shit." It wasn't an account number. "That's not - holy fucking shit." Steve realized he was just sitting there cursing in front of his alpha and he slapped a hand over his mouth.

But Tony just laughed. "Such a mouth on you," he muttered, seemingly more to himself than to Steve. "Think it'll be enough? I'll get you paperwork for some assets I'm transferring into a trust in your name, too, property, investments, etcetera. So if something happens to me you'll know who to call."

"What am I supposed to do with all this? What do you want me to buy?"

Tony reached for Steve's hand again, his finger tapping lightly on the back. "Whatever you want, Steve."

"But - uh - the groceries?"

"You can order groceries through JARVIS, but if you really want to go to the store yourself, you can pay with the phone. Just open the wallet app, click the account you want to pay with, and tap it on the POS like a credit card. Can't lie and say I wouldn't like you to get some more clothes, so it doesn't look like I'm keeping you locked in the basement and chucking half a bowl of gruel down there twice a week, but that's up to you." Tony leaned in close and Steve's heart fluttered around in his chest like a butterfly. "I can't see what you spend, Steve. I know some alphas track that kind of thing, but I don't. That's your money. You will always have as much money as you need. I've made sure that if anything happens to me, you'll be taken care of, not by another alpha, but by my estate. If you want to keep your job, of course you can, but you don't need to. If you'd feel safer moving that money into your other accounts, go right ahead, but you'll want to talk to my accountant cause it opens you up to some tax liabilities. I just want to make sure you're safe. And free."

Seve couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Tony was a magnet, holding him in place, eyes fixed on his. 

Then Tony leaned back, letting out a slow breath. "I mean, as free as you can be, stuck here with me." He smiled grimly. "Anyway, money's all yours. You don't have to shop for me - I mostly eat from SI mess hall downstairs, and there's a service that keeps my workshop fridge stocked. Not that I didn't enjoy the doughnuts." Tony's smile curved real. "That was nice. But don't feel like you have to. I want you to have whatever food you want - whether that's grocery shopping or ordering takeout through J every day. Put it on the credit card or use your account, whatever makes you most comfortable. The cards get paid off automatically. Oh, and… I'm really sorry I didn't explain this better in the first place. I was kind of... " Tony's eyes drifted off into the distance "... distracted. When you got here." He cleared his throat. "Do you have any questions?"

Steve dropped his eyes to the phone screen, trying to process the fact that he now had several million dollars to his name. And if Tony was to be trusted - and to his own surprise, Steve felt like he was - it was free and clear and without restraint. Twenty-two years of poverty; Steve couldn't fathom suddenly being so wealthy he'd never possibly work through it all. "You really mean it?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Yup."

Steve nodded once. "Okay." He turned his eyes up to Tony. "Clothes, huh?"

"Yeah." Tony's lips curved into a devastating smile, the kind that put him on the cover of magazines. "Maybe start with something blue." He pushed up out of his chair, pulling his laptop into his arms. "You look good in blue."

Steve waited for his heart to start beating again.


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out that there were some very noticeable benefits to being Tony Stark's omega.

Steve hit the shops the next day, wearing the nice shirt from his gala suit and his least ratty jeans, and tried to find new clothes. He started in the Macy's down the street, but it was all so overwhelming. He was used to shopping in thrift stores or getting hand me downs that hung loose on his tiny frame. When two hours produced no successes, Steve walked another three blocks to the boutique where JARVIS had said Tony's personal shopper worked. 

A bell rang as Steve pulled the door open and everyone turned to look at him. He hung by the door, unsure of what to do. There was a group of omegas at the back of the small boutique, sitting on pouffes and chaise lounges and sipping from champagne flutes. In the middle of the cushy seating was a small, satin-covered platform facing a full length mirror and an omega was standing on it in a full length ball gown, turning back and forth to examine herself.

"I just don't think I love the colour," she drawled, and the man closest to her rolled his eyes and took another sip.

"Whatever, Marianne. It's not like it's going to be on you long enough for him to notice that it makes your skin tags pop." 

She smacked at him with a free hand and he dodged, giggling into his glass.

"Can I help you?"

Steve turned towards the new voice and found himself face to face with an Amazon. She was several heads taller than him - probably taller than Tony, and appeared to be eighty percent legs. Those legs were showcased in skin tight overalls that covered a red, plaid crop top with puffed sleeves. Her lipstick was redder than the reddest pigment Steve had in his paint set.

"I'm looking for Elaine?" he croaked out, pleased that he remembered the name of Tony's personal shopper without having to check his notebook.

She extended her hand. "That's me, sugar. You must be Tony Stark's new omega, huh? Steve, right?"

Steve nodded. "I'm supposed to buy clothes. But um…" He looked back at the sprawled group.

"Anything in particular?"

When Steve just blinked, she took his hand and led him across the shop towards a small alcove at the back with a dressing room and more comfy seating. Her heels clicked across the floor, and Steve couldn't help wondering if her alpha minded that she was taller than them dressed like that. Unless they were even taller…

"So is this for an event? Something specific?"

"Oh no. More like… everything." Steve plucked at the button-down he was wearing - the only presentable clothing that had come with him from his old life. "I have a nice suit for fancy events and basically nothing else."

Elaine clapped her hands together. "Wonderful! I love a full wardrobe. You sit right here, sugar, and I'm going to pick things out to get you started. Any styles you're into? Colours? Fashion icons?"

"Um. I don't know. I like… simple things. I don't know how to be… flashy. My style's pretty boring, I guess."

"No such thing, sugar. Clothes can't be boring, only the people in them. And I can already tell you're anything but boring." She winked as she stood. "Now, what can I get you to drink?"

"Oh. Anything's fine." Steve felt like there was probably something he should order, some message Elaine would infer from what he said, but it was a secret code he'd never been privy to. But she just smiled and nodded at that and returned a moment later with a flute of champagne. It was crisp and sweet and easy to drink, and the warmth flushed through Steve down to his belly and bolstered his courage just a bit.

Elaine was gone for a while and first Steve sat and waited, then he fiddled with his phone, then he leaned back in his chair to try and eavesdrop on the omegas still gathered around the mirror. He wasn't just eavesdropping for the sake of it - or at least that's what he told himself. If these were the kind of people he'd be expected to spend time with, he needed to figure out what they were like, how he should talk, what he should say. 

"Well it's not like I had a choice," one of them said - the man with the streaks of gold on his suit jacket. "Whatever."

"Oh my god, Lydia, what the fuck is that?"

Steve flicked his eyes over to see them all crowding around Lydia, looking and her hand. She laughed. "It's nothing. Oscar got it for me yesterday."

"It's the size of my head."

"It's the size of my alpha's knot," grumbled the man who had been teasing Marianne earlier.

"Stop whining, Jasper. This isn't about you."

Marianne tipped Lydia's hand back and forth in the light, but Steve still couldn't see what it was. "Good lord. What was he apologizing for this time?"

Lydia rolled her eyes but laughed as well. "Getting caught knot-deep in the gardener," she said lightly, almost sing-songing, but with a bitter edge. 

"Oh, shit," Jasper said. "Is your gardener hot?"

Marianne huffed. "Good lord. Get a grip."

"It hardly matters," Lydia said. "Next time I find him fucking someone else, I'm getting a trip to the Mediterranean."

"You deserve it."

_ "I _ deserve it," Jasper whined. "At least your alpha can get it up enough to knot you. Mine needs half a bottle of pills just to get me through my heat. Wouldn't be so bad if he weren't also so fucking possessive that I can't even sniff someone more… _ functional,  _ without getting my knuckles rapped."

"You're such a horn dog, Jasper." Lydia pulled a tube of lipstick out of her purse and leaned forward to apply it in the mirror. The light caught her hand and now Steve could see the ring there, weighed down by a huge, glittering, pink stone.

Jasper huffed. "Like you've never thought about wandering."

The man in the striped jacket laughed, and Marianne flicked him on the shoulder. "You are the last to talk, my dear. You're on what? Third? Fourth?"

"Don't tease, darling. You know very well that Nadia is the love of my life." He sipped his champagne. "And fourth."

"Of course. You're so astoundingly  _ lucky  _ to have had all three of your rich, elderly alphas pass away and leave you everything so you're free to pursue _ true love." _ There was a sarcastic edge to Jasper's voice that Steve couldn't understand.

"How long will true love last this time?" Lydia twittered. "Until she starts withholding the flashy watches?"

"So cold, Lydia," the man purred. 

"I should be so lucky," Jasper sighed.

"How's this colour?"

Steve startled up at Elaine appearing at his side. She moved so quietly despite her Amazonian stature and pointed heels. She was holding a sweater out towards him, deep, sapphire blue and so soft looking, Steve couldn't help but run his fingers over it. "It's lovely."

"Perfect. Let's try some stuff on."

The next hour was a whirlwind. Elaine went in the dressing room with him and stripped him down with professional detachment. She helped him dress in a pair of black, fitted slacks and the cashmere sweater then tugged everything into place, pinching and pulling. She produced a pin cushion seemingly from nowhere then twisted here, pulled there, and suddenly -

"Wow. I'm - wow." Steve had never seen himself look like that. He looked sharp, clean, crisp. The lines of the pants and the sweater were flattering, lying heavy over the places where he was boney and angular and curving around the in-tuck of his waist and the sharp line of his hips. He looked good. "Thank you," he breathed.

Elaine laughed. "Oh, we're just getting started, sugar."

And she wasn't kidding. It took what felt like ages, and sure enough, when Steve stumbled out of the dressing room, the sun had fallen significantly in the sky. It felt like Elaine had emptied the entire store and was packing up a version of almost everything for Steve. 

As they neared the end, Elaine stopped and looked Steve up and down. "You two having a bonding party?"

Steve shook his head. "Uh no. Tony - my alpha - doesn't want the publicity. We just had a private ceremony."

Elaine nodded, then quirked her eyebrow up with a smirk. "Honeymoon?"

Steve absolutely did  _ not  _ want to admit to her that it wasn't that kind of relationship. "Um. Later. When the press calms down a bit," Steve said. "And when Tony's not so busy at work."

"Alright. Well it never hurts to be prepared, right?" She pulled a rolling rack over and whipped a hanger off, holding it out against the dark wood of the door. Her eyes twinkled as Steve swallowed heavily.

It was lace.  _ Barely  _ lace, at that. It was a diaphanous wisp of dandelion fluff in the form of lingerie, soft and light and intricate. It was deep, intense blue with a delicate, white ribbon woven into a bow at the front centre. Steve didn't know what the cut was called, but it was clearly designed to hug his curves and show much more than it hid. 

It was the kind of thing omegas on the front covers of his romance novels would wear, a shirtless alpha behind them, wind blowing both their hair in different directions while they adopted tortured expressions of overwhelming Emotion™.

And even though it was more than a little silly, and even though Steve would never find himself in the arms of an amorous alpha, let alone a shirtless one who could summon his own coif-breeze, he still loved it.

"Wow." 

"Here. Try that on while I start to pack up the bag for the tailor." Elaine bustled Steve into the dressing room with the hanger and shut the door.

He stood for a moment, holding it, wondering at the way the hanger itself weighed much more than the gossamer fabric. His cock was already twitching in his pants at the thought of wearing it. He turned his back to the mirror and stripped off the t-shirt and boxers Elaine had left him in most of the time. First he pulled on the tiny panties clipped under the top. Then he slipped the ribbon straps off the hanger and pulled the lace over his head. It floated down over him, not as tight as he expected, but somehow still clinging to every inch of him, even as the movement of his arms made it rustle and flow over his skin like water. His cock tented the panties, making the lace stretch around it.

He didn't turn around. It didn't matter what it  _ looked  _ like. It didn't matter if it made him look even bonier than usual, if it accented the slight divot in his chest or the way his spine wasn't perfectly straight. No one was ever going to see him in it, so all that mattered was how he felt. And he felt beautiful. Light, sleek, sensual. He felt sexy, maybe for the first time in his life - desirable. The very thought brought a flush of heat to his cheeks and the urge to push the feeling away, tear the thing off. But he took a breath and forced himself to sink into it. It was okay. Tony didn't want him, but that didn't mean he had to pretend sex didn't exist. He wanted to own the outfit and Tony had said he could have whatever he wanted and Elaine thought it was okay…

He pulled it off hurriedly, being as careful as he could then slipped out of the dressing room, dressed in the outfit Elaine had thrown over the top for him to wear home. Most of what he'd chosen needed to be tailored, and she had folded all of that, covered in pins and chalk, to be delivered in two days. There was enough that fit right for Steve to wear a pair of dark wash jeans and a long-sleeved shirt home.

Back at the counter, Elaine was lovingly folding his old clothes and tucking them in their own bag. "What do you think?"

Steve nodded, cheeks on fire, and slid the scrap of lace across the counter so she could wrap it in tissue and add it to the bag.

And it was all just handed to him with a smile. Tony had an account that he settled monthly, and no one seemed concerned that it was too big of a bill or that they might not get paid. Elaine called a cab and helped Steve shove all his bags in the trunk then she bent down and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, sugar."

"No, thank you. Seriously, this is amazing. I couldn't have done it without you." 

Elaine winked then waved as the cab pulled away from the curb. 

Steve took two trips to move everything from the elevator to his room, and he laid it all out on his bed and took stock. He hung up what he had, leaving empty hangers for the stuff still to come, and carefully lined the shoes up along the bottom of the closet. Elaine had even helped him pick a watch, which he left in the box, wrapped in a sock in his underwear drawer. 

He only had an hour until his shift started at the library so he threw away all the packaging, drank two glasses of water to counteract the champagne, and set off for the subway. 

Work was comfortingly unchanged. A new donation had been made from the local thrift store and Steve set to work sorting through them, making a pile of books that needed to be repaired, needed to be thrown out, and could be entered into the system and shelved right away.

"New shirt?" Dot asked, patting him once on the head as she walked by.

"Oh. Yeah. Do you like the colour?" Steve asked, trying to deflect away from any questions about how he'd managed to afford it. He should have changed before coming in, but the new clothes were so clean and crisp and… well, Tony wanted him to wear them.

"Yeah, I like it. You look good, Steve." She sat down opposite him and pulled a box towards her. "So… someone special you're trying to impress?" Her eyes twinkled.

Steve huffed out a laugh. "No. Of course not. I just… I had a little spare cash and thought I deserved it. Plus, you know, things had holes in them."

"You do deserve it. You do. I think you look great. Even if there isn't anyone special now, keep parading around like that and there soon will be!"

She laughed, and Steve tried to laugh with her. How much would that hurt, though? If he met someone now. His heart stuttered at the thought. Only a second later, he pushed it away. He wouldn't. He was twenty-two and no one had ever sent a glance his way up until now, the odds were so steeply against that ever happening that it didn't bear thinking about.

He had Tony now, and that was what he had to focus on. Someday, he was going to have to tell his coworkers, too, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet.

When his shift ended, Steve was the only one left. He tossed the last empty box in the dumpster and took a moment to admire his handiwork; all the books had been sorted. Feet tired and back aching, but feeling like he'd accomplished something more than being a glorified Barbie doll all day, Steve locked up and made his way back down the street towards the subway. It was dark, and tired as he was, Steve took a shortcut through a back alley and came out on a quieter street with no shops, just impersonal apartment blocks in long, endless stretches. He pulled out his phone to check and make sure Tony hadn't texted him during the day and got caught scrolling through Amazon's recommendations for new painting supplies.

"Hey, sweetheart, where you headed?"

Steve looked up from his phone to see two alphas leaning against the wall by the corner, calling out towards a huddled shape in a sweater. Steve could smell the omega scent even half a block away. They were going to get themselves in trouble. "Leave them alone," he called out, before he could stop himself.

Both alphas' heads snapped in his direction and the hoodie-clad figure ran up the steps of an apartment building and disappeared. 

"Yeah? Volunteering as tribute?" one joked, a nasty sneer curling his lips.

Steve shook his head, shoved his phone back in his pocket and kept walking, ignoring them.

"Baby, you smell so good." Suddenly one of the alphas was right at his side, leaning into his space, breathing in deeply. 

Steve shifted away. "Not interested, fellas," he breathed, turning to cut across the street, but the other alpha was on his right now. He backed Steve up until he was arm to arm with the first. 

"Bit rude. You don't even know what we want, yet."

"Yeah, at least ask us what we want." The alpha at his back landed a hand on Steve's hip. They kept crowding and shoving and jostling until they were all hidden in the alley, shadows pooling around them. Steve's heart pounded heavily in his chest. What  _ did  _ they want? Were they just trying to scare him or…?

"I just want to get home," Steve tried.

"And I just want…" The man's fingers went to the edge of Steve's jaw and stroked there, and all Steve could think was how unbelievably stupid it was that he'd saved himself all these years for an alpha that didn't want him and now two strangers in an alley were going to take whatever they wanted. His hands balled into fists even as his eyes heated with unshed tears. He sure as shit wasn't going to go down without a fight. 

"Holy shit, I want this." The other man had shoved his hand in Steve's pocket and come up with his phone. The one Tony had given him. 

"Fuck off." Steve made a grab for it, but the guy had a few feet on him and held it up, out of reach. The first alpha was still too close, sucking in the scent he pulled from Steve's neck. It was claustrophobic and Steve's mind started tennising back and forth between  _ FIGHT!  _ and, for some reason he was too stressed to put his finger on,  _ Tony! _

The alpha with his phone shoved it in his back pocket and leaned in, gripping Steve's chin in his hands. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't be walking around all alone. Bet you need a good knotting, don't you, baby?"

Steve cocked back and slammed his fist into the man's face.

"Ah! You  _ fucker!"  _ Both alphas turned on him with vicious growls, whatever playfulness had been in their teasing was gone now, replaced with rage and pure aggression. 

Steve's face bounced off the brick as one of them shoved hard and before he could get his bearings, hands descended, clawing and shoving and ripping at his clothes. He covered his head with his arms, trying to kick out and catch an ankle. There was a rushing in his ears like an airplane engine -

And then it was over.

Steve uncurled and squared up from where he was slumped on the ground. A few feet away, stood a tall, red and gold suit of armour, a blue circle glowing in its chest and two bright slits for eyes. Iron Man had one of Steve's attackers scruffed in each hand. Steve was pretty sure his heart stopped beating. Had they knocked him unconscious and this was a hallucination?

Iron Man smacked the two alphas together then dropped them in a dazed pile on the ground.

"Oh," Steve said.

Iron Man reached out and offered him a hand which Steve took. The smooth metal curled around his wrist and helped pull him to his feet. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Steve breathed, brushing himself off. He was starting to find his breath again, but his head was spinning.

"Call 9-1-1 for those idiots and order a cab," Iron Man said.

"What?"

"Sorry?" He turned towards Steve. "Oh, sorry. I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to - uh - Siri." His voice wasn't what Steve expected. It came out stilted and robotic through the suit, but there was a far too human hesitancy laced through it.

Steve narrowed his eyes at the expressionless armour. "You have Siri in your super-armour?"

"No. I'm. I was talking to a friend. I just call them Siri."

Why was Iron Man lying to him? Steve peered at him, trying to take in as much of the suit as he could, now that he was close to it. "Are those bullet holes?"

"Um. It's a fashion statement." Iron Man cleared his throat, the sound tinny and distorted through the speakers. "You should be careful where you walk this late."

Steve shot him a glare. "It's not that late. And I've been walking here for ten years."

Iron Man's chin tilted down. "In four hundred dollar shoes?"

Steve followed his gaze to gape at his own feet. "These shoes cost  _ four hundred dollars?  _ Oh my god." When Iron Man stayed silent, Steve offered him an apologetic glance. "They were a gift. From…" He found he really didn't want to say it. Not to Iron Man. "...my alpha." He winced. 

"Ah." And Steve had to be imagining the disappointment in Iron Man's voice, right? Surely that was all in his head. "Nice gift." The way it came out stilted was just the voice modulators in the suit.

"He's very… generous." That reminded Steve of his phone and he bent down to wiggle it out of the unconscious alpha's pocket. 

Iron Man took a step back and looked out towards the main road. "And he's probably wondering where you are -"

Steve muttered, "Unlikely," under his breath.

"- so I'd better get you in that cab."

Steve let himself be guided towards the street corner, leaning back into the cool metal of the hand on his lower back. It was reminding him of something, but he wasn't sure what. Now that the shock of nearly being mugged - or worse - was starting to wear off, his heart started thudding for a new reason, entirely. This was  _ Iron Man.  _ The Iron Man. Helping Steve, talking to him, touching him. A million new fantasies burst to life in the back of his mind, ready to play out in perfect detail once he was alone and tucked into his bed in the dark.

A taxi pulled up to the corner and Iron Man tugged the back door open. "You sure you're okay?" he asked.

Steve nodded. "Thanks for your help."

"Anytime. Take care."

Steve slid into the back seat and kept his eyes on the shiny red and gold armour as they pulled away from the curb. Before he was out of sight, Iron Man braced himself then shot up into the sky. Steve nearly put his neck out trying to follow his path into the dark of the night.  _ Wow. _

Back at the tower, Steve hoped he could sneak up to his room and just go to bed and let his head spin in privacy, but Tony was sitting on the couch and he leaned back, twisting around to see him when Steve stepped through the doors. 

"Hey. How was work?" He had a book in his lap, reading glasses on, looking painfully domestic and the contrast between this soft side of his alpha that Steve was starting to get glimpses of and the sheer thrill of meeting the superhero he'd been lusting after for weeks now, made Steve's heart pound. 

"Fine."

Tony stood and walked over towards him.  _ Go away, let me leave,  _ Steve begged silently. 

"I was wondering if - what is that?" Tony stopped a few feet away then jerked forward, his hand coming up to cup the side of Steve's face incredibly gently. "Is that a bruise?"

Steve swore silently. He hadn't even thought about how quickly the bruise would bloom on his forehead. "It's uh -" He cleared his throat. "I tripped at work. Hit my head on a shelf. It's nothing. I'd already forgotten."

A storm passed over Tony's face then dissolved into something like sadness. "Right. Okay. You need an ice pack?"

"No, I'm okay. Thanks. I'm just tired."

"You don't have a concussion, do you? Dizzy? Confused? Seeing double? Nauseous?"

Steve snorted out a laugh. "I've been dizzy since nineteen ninety-three. But no, I'm fine. No concussion. Just a long day."

Tony stepped away, his hand sliding off Steve's face like it was reluctant to break the contact. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Steve fled back to his room. 

He was halfway into his pajamas, relieved to wear something old and comfortable and familiar after all the new clothes that day, when his old phone buzzed loudly. He groaned. Work was the only one who had his old number and used it, which meant they probably needed to change his shift and Steve really didn't want to have to go back in tomorrow. His head was throbbing and he was regretting refusing the ice pack. The last of the adrenaline drained away and he just wanted to curl up under the blankets and never leave. He slid open the text, stomach churning.

_ Stateside. _

He stared at it for a long time, trying to figure out what on earth that meant, when he finally noticed who had sent the text. It wasn't work. It wasn't a number saved with a name, but it was one he knew like the back of his hand. It was Bucky.

_ What??!!!??? _

_ They're sending me home. Gonna be back in my place by 3pm tomorrow. _

_ OMG! That's amazing! Why? _

_ I'll tell you tomorrow. You're coming over, right? _

_ Of course. 3pm. _

Steve bounced in place. Bucky was back! Finally a friend that wasn't through work. Someone who  _ knew  _ him. He didn't realize how painfully badly he'd been craving that until he had a chance to have it back. It occurred to him that most of the reasons for someone to be sent home before their tour was over weren't very good, but he was coming home and that was all Steve could think about in the moment. 

He could barely sleep that night, so eager to run right to Bucky and tell him everything that had happened to him over the last few months.

Thankfully, Tony was nowhere to be seen the next morning, so Steve stress cleaned then stress painted, then stress baked pumpkin muffins until it was finally late enough that he could leave. He threw some still-warm muffins in his backpack, put on some of his new clothes, and blasted out of the tower. He was so distracted on the subway ride that he didn't even find himself interested in the people joining him in the car. At Bucky's stop, he dove out the doors and jogged up the stairs, finding a moment to wonder at how free and easy his lungs felt even with the rush. The new inhaler really was working. 

He went round and round the fire escape at Bucky's building, all the way up to his kitchen window. He rapped on the glass.

A moment later, Bucky appeared, pulling a t-shirt on over wet hair. He grinned as soon as he saw Steve. He unlatched the window, opened it and threw his arms wide to catch Steve who flung himself through as soon as it was open wide enough. Bucky spun him around holding him tightly. He smelled like soap and alpha, but mostly like Bucky, and Steve breathed in the comforting scent deeply. 

"Ah, Steve, god. It's been so long. I missed you, bud." He burrowed his face in Steve's hair and breathed him in too. 

"I missed you so much. I wrote you like a hundred letters but I forgot to bring them. Geez, I have so much to tell you."

Bucky stood back, holding Steve at arms length. He looked him once over. "You sure do. Like who the fuck dressed you this morning and what happened to your face?"

"I… my alpha."

"What?"

"Sort of. His personal shopper, Elaine, actually. She's wonderful."

"I leave you on your own for ten months and you get bonded to a guy with a personal shopper? What the shit, Stevie? And did he do this?" Bucky's fingertips brushed over the bruise.

"No, no, definitely not. You should probably sit down."

They both sat on the couch and Steve told Bucky everything. He started from getting the selection letter, to meeting Tony for the first time, to the long days he spent alone in the tower with JARVIS and Joshua. He told him about the gala and the heat and Elaine and Iron Man. When he finished, Bucky just blinked at him.

"Jesus."

"I know. I still feel every day like this is some big prank and someone with a camera is going to jump out from behind a potted plant and yell  _ psych!"  _

"I don't have any potted plants. I also need coffee." Bucky pushed up off the couch. 

"Oh, I brought muffins. Grab them from my bag, would you?"

Bucky picked up Steve's backpack on his way to the kitchen and rummaged around. He came up with the latest romance novel Steve was reading and chuckled, waving it in his direction. "Still read these?"

Steve stuck his tongue out. "I happen to like them."

"Even now? Not soured on the idea of romance?"

"No… maybe even more so now." Steve sighed and leaned back against the couch cushions. "I'm never going to get it for real, so all I have is stories."

"What do you like about these anyway?" Bucky found the muffins and tossed them on the counter. He dug out a tin of coffee.

"I like the moment when something breaks," Steve mused.

"What?"

"I like that moment, near the end, when they both want each other so badly, but they can't admit they do yet, and it's like this glass wall between them, just pining and wanting. But then… something breaks - the glass breaks, and they just can't take it anymore. Whatever is between them doesn't matter, they push through it and come together. I like when it hits that breaking point."

"Huh." Bucky flipped the book over and read the back while the coffee brewed. "I don't get it." He put the book back in Steve's bag and tossed it back by the window. "Well. I kinda get some of it." His cheeks flushed and Steve was pretty sure he'd never seen Bucky blush in the entire time they'd known each other. 

"You  _ do?"  _

"Maybe." He came back to the couch with two mugs and gave Steve one then clutched the other close to his chest, a muffin balanced on his knee. "I might have sort of met someone."

_ "You did?!" _ Steve all but screeched. 

"Yeah…" Bucky looked more than embarrassed, he looked uncomfortable. "His name is Sam."

"He's a local?"

Bucky shook his head. He looked miserable now.

"I… so -"

"He's in pararescue."

"But… Buck. He's - is he an alpha?"

Bucky's face twisted and his finger tapped on the side of his mug. He'd shredded his muffin without eating any of it. "Yeah. That's why I'm home. We got caught, but I took the heat. They didn't know who I'd been with. But yeah. He's an alpha."

"Oh god. I'm so sorry. Not sorry he's an alpha!" Steve corrected when Bucky looked even sadder. "Just sorry you got kicked out. Are you gonna be okay for money?"

Bucky snorted. "You offering to take care of me, bud?"

"If you need it, yeah. Of course."

"Nah. Roxy said she'd take me back at the garage. I'll be alright."

"You… um. You love him? I never knew you liked alphas, Buck. You never told me."

"I didn't know. I guess. Yeah. I dunno about love but... He probably won't remember me by the time he finishes his tour, though."

"Don't say that. I'm sure he misses you too."

Bucky shrugged. "Anyway. Tell me more about living in Tony Stark's house. I heard his toilets flush automatically and his vegetable peeler is made out of solid gold."

Taking the hint, Steve didn't press on Sam, but he was desperate to know more about the alpha who had caught Bucky's eye and his heart. "It's… yeah. There's a lot of automation. I made friends with a cleaning robot. Oh, and there's JARVIS. He's sort of… the houses's voice. Tony gave me a sitting room, but I turned it into an art studio."

"He doesn't mind?"

Steve twisted his fingers together. "No. He doesn't seem to mind anything I do." He dropped his eyes. "For better or worse."

"Ah. Wish he minded a bit more?"

Steve shrugged. "I mean, he seems into this for the long haul. In the beginning, I was sure he was just going to dump me back on the street with nothing, but he gave me all this money and he always talks like he's going to keep the bond. Though, I'm sure someday he'll fall in love and take a second." Steve's heart clenched at the thought. A few months ago, he would have celebrated the possibility - well off, comfortable, and ignored by his alpha who had an omega to please him. But now…

"Maybe he won't," Bucky offered. "Does he not like you at all? Sounds like he was pretty lovely during your heat. I mean, I sure as shit wouldn't say you smell like caramel." Bucky's nose wrinkled, and Steve punched him in the arm.

"He's nice. He's just… kind. I'm nothing special to him. He has this reputation for being sort of a bulldozer or not caring about people's feelings, but it's more that he's distractible and when he's in the zone, nothing else exists. He's kind, though, and he's been kind to me. I can't really complain."

"Can't you?" Bucky nudged Steve's ankle with one foot.

Steve shrugged again. His eyes were getting hot. "I shouldn't. I just know he doesn't love me. I always wanted that, you know. I guess part of me still thought that would happen, someday. And now I know it never will. He's nice."

"You were never one to settle for nice, Stevie."

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "It's okay. I know this is the best thing that could ever happen to me - I mean, I have proper inhalers and glasses and everything - but I can't help but be a little disappointed."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm whining. I'm lucky, really. He's good to me. I could have ended up with an alpha who hit me or, you know, 'took advantage.'"

"Maybe you'll come to love him?"

Steve snorted. "Doesn't matter. He'll never think about me that way. He's made that perfectly clear."

There was an awkward moment of silence, and then Bucky asked about the library and they were off again. By the time Steve levered himself up off the couch, it was well past dinner time. "I'd better get back." He stretched.

"Your alpha will be wondering about you, I suppose."

"Nah, he doesn't care what I do. If he even notices I'm gone, he'll assume I'm at work."

"Lucky he let you keep your job."

"Yeah." It rankled more than he expected to think about Tony not wondering where he was. What if he just… left? How long would it be before Tony noticed he wasn't coming back? And with all the money he had, he could. He could just leave, go somewhere else. It might be hard getting the bank to do withdrawals without his alpha's signing approval, but it seemed like Tony really had set up his accounts to be as free and clear as he possibly could. He'd at least certainly be better off than before, when he'd barely been scraping together enough for inhalers.

"Steve?"

"Oh, right. Better go. I'll see you again soon, though." Steve opened his arms, and Bucky scooped him up, hugging him tightly enough that his feet came off the ground. "I'm sorry about why you left, but god, I'm so glad you're back."

"I'm sorry too, but it is really good to be home. Text me when you get home safe."

Steve gave Bucky one more squeeze then climbed back out of the window with his backpack. The subway ride to the tower was distinctly more cheerful, now that he knew Bucky was back and back for good. It coloured everything in a new light. He could handle everything he was going through at home, knowing he had Bucky as backup, someone to text, someone to hug, someone who would listen to him.

Back at the tower, Steve stepped out of the elevator to the sound of Tony's footsteps coming up from the workshop. He paused, waiting, and Tony burst out from the stairwell. He advanced on Steve immediately, the anger flashing in his eyes making Steve shrink back against the wall.

"What were you thinking?!" Tony stalked towards him then turned on his heel and motored over to the living room where he threw himself into an armchair. "Seriously, Steve? What on earth were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Fear was making him curl in on himself, shrinking away from a threatening light he'd never seen in Tony's eyes. 

"All I asked you to do was be careful and not do anything horribly debilitating from a PR standpoint, and so what do you do? The  _ second  _ your boyfriend comes back from overseas you're over at his house. I mean, come  _ on."  _

"What? He's not -"

"He's an unbonded alpha, Steve, and you were there for  _ three hours." _ Tony scrubbed a rough hand through his hair. "What the fuck am I supposed to do about this?"

Steve stuttered out random syllables. How could he explain his behaviour? How could he explain that Bucky had always been there for him, even when he'd presented and everyone else had tried to either get them to bond or drive a wedge between them. No one would believe the relationship between an alpha and an omega was platonic, but he needed Tony to understand. He'd never cheat on him. "Tony, it's not -"

"It's not on Twitter yet, thank fuck, so maybe nobody noticed. When I told you to be careful, this was exactly what I meant. For fucks sake."

"I'm - I'm sorry," Steve choked out, voice wobbling.

Tony finally really looked at him and his face fell. "Shit…" He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for yelling. I'm just - I'm stressed out and this is bad timing. And I'm - I feel - I mean…" He coughed. "Like, I get it. I just wish…" he grumbled. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry, really, honestly, sorry, that it has to be this way, but you can't go to his house. If you want to see him, he has to come here."

"I didn't think you'd want an alpha here."

"Well, I can always tell them he's one of my friends, not yours. It's easily explainable. But you at his house? Shit, I mean, there's nothing. They spot you two, and it's all over the tabs, all over social media. If I'd known… I mean, it wasn't in your file, but if I'd known, I wouldn't have, you know." Tony's eyes dropped to his lap. "I wouldn't have selected you."

Steve's blood ran cold. If Tony had known about Bucky, he wouldn't have selected him? What did that even mean? It twisted up Steve's insides, the thought that he could have prevented the thing he wanted least, two months ago, and now it was getting in the way of the thing he was starting to find he wanted after all. "I'm sorry," he choked out again. "It wasn't -"

"It's okay," Tony said softly. "It's not really your fault. And no one spotted you this time, so I think it's okay. I just really, really can't handle that kind of scandal right now and I - oh god."

"What?"

Tony looked up at him, ashen. "You're not on suppressants. Please for the love of god tell me you're not pregnant."

"What! No! Oh my god." Steve wrapped his arms around himself protectively and backed up a few steps. "What are you even talking about?"

"Well, I don't know! You haven't seen in each other in a year! And your heat is barely over. I imagine there was a lot of rejoicing and maybe not a lot of care. JARVIS, order some… supplies. For Steve. You have to be really careful, Steve, god, I'm so - this is a nightmare."

"Bucky and I are  _ not  _ having sex!" Steve yelped, his voice rising into dogs-only range. "What the - oh my god, Tony. Do you really think that?"

Tony paused, blinked. "You were at his house for three hours. You're barely out of heat. You bought lingerie and then you went to his place for  _ three hours." _

"Yeah, because he's my best friend and I hadn't seen him in a year! I missed him. We were catching up. I was telling him all about  _ you.  _ I wouldn't do that." Steve crossed his arms. "Even if I loved him - which I don't, not like that - I wouldn't cheat on you. I know this bond isn't really 'normal' but it means something to me. I  _ wouldn't _ do that. I'm yours. Besides, I told you that's not something you can fake, on the medical. You said you believed me..."

"Oh." Tony adopted an expression that Steve imagined he might if he'd been whacked in the face with a fish out of nowhere. "Right." He sunk down into a slump.

"How do you know about… what I bought?" Steve's cheeks were so hot he was worried they'd burn.

"Elaine sent an itemized list with the bill. Sorry. I should have asked her not to do that. Not my business."

"I didn't… buy it for anyone. Okay? It's just… you said I could get what I wanted." Hot tears were welling up in Steve's eyes, a mixture of frustration, fear, embarrassment, and anger.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." Tony ran a hand back through his hair. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I wasn't  _ looking.  _ I just  _ saw.  _ Of course you can buy whatever you want. I'll set up your own account with Elaine so the bills won't come to me."

"It's okay," Steve muttered. Not like he was ever buying lace again anyway, so it hardly mattered. All of these clothes had already been more trouble than they were worth. "Were you really okay with him coming over here if you thought we were doing  _ that?"  _

Tony withered. "I don't  _ own  _ you. I thought you were in love with him. Who am I to stand in the way of that? You don't have to lie - I wouldn't consider it cheating, you know. I mean, I wouldn't blame you. I thought you were on the registry because you wanted to be, because there wasn't anyone else, but I - I -"

Steve took pity on him. "Tony." Tony stopped talking. Steve crossed the room to stand in front of him. The soft sadness in Tony's face erased the last of his fear. "Bucky is like a brother to me. I do love him, but not like an omega loves an alpha. It's never been that way between us. But people have always seen us that way, and I thought if I invited him over, you'd think that too. I didn't even consider the press finding out. I'm really sorry. But I need you to know that there isn't anyone else. I will be faithful to you, even though it's not -" Steve coughed delicately "- like  _ that.  _ For us. And if you don't want me to see Bucky, I understand." His voice betrayed him, breaking on the last syllable.

"Of course, I don't -  _ of course  _ you can see your friend. I don't give a shit if he's an alpha, okay? It's okay, Steve."

"But the press -"

"Yeah, I just need you to be careful. Invite him  _ here _ . Introduce us. Let me drop his name as a friend of mine. Then no one will wonder. That's all I need."

Steve nodded. "I'm sorry."

All the wind seemed to have been taken out of Tony's sails. "I'm sorry I yelled."

"It's okay." Steve wound his fingers together. "So. Um. It was just the press thing? That made you angry, I mean?"

Tony's bottom lip disappeared in between his teeth then reappeared. "Yeah. I mean, I'm not - I don't blame you - I can't blame you for being in love with someone else. I always figured if you were on the registry, it'd be because you were unattached and when I thought you were his - in heart if not in bond - I just felt like an asshole for selecting you."

"Right. Okay." He started to turn away then paused. "You know a lot of omegas are on the registry because they have no other option. Even if they don't want to be bonded."

"Yeah, I know that now," Tony said softly. 

"Okay. I'm - I'm going to go upstairs."

"Okay - oh - your friend, he's okay, right?"

"What?"

"He was discharged early, he okay?"

Steve tensed, still not completely confident that Tony was without jealousy. Even if Tony didn't want him, he was still his omega, and Bucky was still an unbonded alpha whose scent was surely all over Steve now. "He's okay. He has a job. It wasn't his fault, you know. He didn't do anything wrong."

Tony held up a hand in surrender. "I believe you. Just want to make sure he doesn't need anything." His voice dropped lower, almost as if he didn't expect Steve to hear. "All I'm good for."

With nothing else to say, Steve turned on his heel and went upstairs.

There was too much to process, from the last two days. New clothes, work, Iron Man saving him - he'd been  _ attacked  _ and Tony didn't even know, would he care? - and Bucky coming back… Steve sunk down on the edge of the bed and dropped his face in his hands. It was like everything was spiraling out of control. He just wanted to keep Tony happy so he could be safe.

That was all he wanted.

Except…

Except he didn't know what  _ Tony  _ wanted. That was the thing. One minute, Tony was all wonderful and possessive and caring, like with his heat, or at the gala, and the next he was dismissive, telling Steve he didn't care what he did.

He didn't even care that he thought Steve was sleeping with Bucky. Surely, that should get  _ some  _ reaction? Instead, he was only worried about what it meant for his image.

A sob choked out of Steve's throat before he knew it was building, and he dropped his face in his hands. A memory of the omegas at the clothing shop rose unbidden and he couldn't stomp it down. They expected their alphas to cheat. They asked for shiny rocks and expensive trips in trade for turning a blind eye to the infidelity.

Was that what Tony expected for them? Was he already… already sleeping with someone else?

It hurt so much more than Steve prepared himself for. He'd been so focused on making sure Tony knew  _ he  _ would never cheat that he didn't even consider that Tony might not think there was anything wrong with him doing the same. Visions of Tony wrapped in another omega's arms punched Steve in the chest and he crawled up into bed and shoved his face in the pillow. "JARVIS, turn off the lights," he croaked out, and the room plunged into darkness. 

Steve cried himself to sleep without dinner.

**

The next morning, Steve grumped his way downstairs, assuming Tony would be at work, but he screeched to a halt when he saw his alpha perched at the kitchen table with his phone and stacks of papers spread out around him. He glasses perched up on his head a mess of untamed hair.

"Good morning," Steve tried to say politely, but he wasn't sure it came out that way. 

"Good morning." Tony seemed tense too, but it was hardly Steve's problem. He had a routine and it wasn't his fault if Tony was interrupting it by not being where he was supposed to be.

Steve went to the fridge and pulled out the margarine then put a slice of bread in the toaster. He tapped his fingertips on the counter while he waited for the toast to pop. 

"Did you have a good night?" Tony asked, stilted.

"It was fine." It came out more of a snap than Steve intended and he bit his tongue, wincing. The toaster popped and he put the toast on a plate and spread margarine on it. 

"Are you… uh. You okay?"

"Fine."

"Okay…" Tony sighed and shuffled some papers around. "Hey, I'm - I didn't say anything I forgot to apologize for yesterday, did I? Cause I know I can -"

Steve spun around, gripping the butter knife too hard. "It's fine, Tony. You don't have to - Look, I get it, okay. You don't have to keep telling me -" He broke off. 

Tony blinked at him for a moment. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

A sigh rolled off Steve's tongue, like a strip of carpet being unfurled down a set of stairs, making Tony wince with every step. Steve wished immediately that he could roll it back up, tuck it in his mouth and swallow it down, whole, but it was too late.

Tony turned on his stool and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Steve. I've given you everything anyone could ever want and you're not happy. Why not? What am I not giving you? How could you possibly live like this with your studio and every meal delivered, all the laptops you could ever need, a credit card so black it doesn't even need a name on it, and you're  _ still. Not. Happy.  _ What am I doing wrong?"

Steve curled in on himself. "It's nothing you did, Tony. I am happy…" but he could barely stutter out the words. "I'm okay. I'm fine. It's - I feel safe. You make me feel really safe." His eyes were welling with tears.

Tony stood taking a few steps closer. "Safe isn't happy, honey."

The pet name burned all the way down. "Don't! Don't call me that." He jerked backwards, whacking his hip on the kitchen counter. "You don't have to pretend. It's harder when you pretend this is normal. Okay? Just - just don't."

"What's harder?"

"I -" Steve was a pressure cooker and he couldn't hold the lid on anymore. "I wanted to fall in love!" He threw his arms in the air, then let them fall again. "Okay?" Tony flinched back a step. "I know it's dumb, but I still believed that someday I'd fall in love. I'd find an alpha and they'd love me back, even though I'm old and ugly and can't even breathe properly -" his breath caught, as if his lungs were intending to mock him and he huffed out in sheer frustration. "And we'd be broke and it wouldn't matter cause we loved each other. It's a stupid fantasy, but I can't help but feel like you ruined it."

Tony was quiet for a long time. Too long. Then he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Steve sniffed deeply. "I know." He dropped his chin to his chest, watching his toes curl on the tile. "I know. I know you didn't do it to hurt me. And I am grateful for everything you've done. I am. And you make me feel safe. But I can't - I can't -"

"Okay. Okay." Tony sighed. "I - what can I do? You want to leave the tower? I can -"

"No, no, Tony. I know I can't do that." Steve straightened up. "It's okay. I can be what you need me to be. It's just hard, sometimes, when you act like this is normal, when we both know it isn't. I'm here for one reason and that's okay. I'll do that. And you - you'll - you'll trust me. To know that I won't screw that up. But I have my own life."

"Okay…" Tony said slowly. "I trust you."

"Good. Good. And you - you know - you have your own life. And people in your life… and that's okay. Because I also trust you not to embarrass me."

There was another long pause. "Okay."

"You can do whatever you have to do," he said significantly.

"Is - is there anything you need? I - I do want to make you happy, Steve, even if our relationship isn't quite… traditional."

"I'm okay, Tony, honest." Steve met his gaze and it was easier than he expected. Now that he had it off his chest, now that he'd absolved Tony of the sin of not being attracted to him, he felt freer, somehow. It hurt, but a low, dull throb instead of a painful stab. "JARVIS gets me everything I need and you're kind enough to let me keep my job, and if you really don't mind Bucky coming over -"

"I really don't."

"- then there's nothing else I need. I really am grateful. I'm sorry to whine all over you."

Sadness twisted Tony's features for a moment. "Okay. Well. That's good, I guess. As long as - as long as you're… okay."

Steve dropped the knife in the sink and picked up his plate of toast. "I'm okay." He turned and walked away. 

"Okay…" he heard Tony say behind him. And that word was definitely starting to wear out.

Steve sat on the futon in the sitting room with his toast and munched his way through it, letting the crumbs fall for Joshua. It would be easier, now, knowing Tony felt no obligation to protect Steve's feelings, that he'd seek whatever pleasures he needed to be happy himself without trying to needlessly hold together the front at home that they were some perfect, happy couple. The ideal bond. They could be that for the press, but Steve couldn't do it here anymore. 


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Steve decided to clean his rooms. He'd left them in chaos after the heat and had never really bothered to pick up after himself, since. He was maybe,  _ maybe,  _ a little bit hoping that Tony would see the mess and have something to say about it. And he knew that seeking negative attention just to get  _ some  _ attention wasn't a good way to go about it, but he yo-yoed between thinking about how gently Tony had held him during his heat and thinking about Tony knot-deep in someone else. Someone taller, prettier, smarter, less awkward.

Steve realized he was standing in the middle of his bedroom with his hands on his hips and forced himself to step forward and start picking things up. He piled everything on the bed then sorted it and put it away. Even just cleaning those two rooms took longer than cleaning his old apartment ever had because he finally had things to be messy with. It was a nice feeling, in some ways, and by the time he started sorting his laundry, Steve was feeling re-energized by the process.

Buried in his pile of dirty clothes, Steve found the shirt Tony had given him during his heat. He was bringing it up to his face and breathing it in before he realized what he was doing. It was soft and well-worn, and even after sweating and slicking in it for several days, it still smelled like Tony. 

It was gross, but Steve wanted to keep it dirty. He couldn't, though. That was too far. He shoved it in the laundry pile with the other dirty things then gathered them in his arms and carried them downstairs. He shoved the whole stack in the laundry before he could try and fish the shirt out to smell it one more time.

While the washer ran, Steve went back up and finished tidying, then vacuumed and scrubbed down his bathroom. He had to stop a few times, now that he was stirring up the dust, to hit his inhaler and even stick his head out the window, but it was still better than having strangers come in to clean. 

When he was nearly done and the floor was clear he shifted the laundry then wandered the main floor until he found Joshua. He brought him up and released him in the room to get under the bed and into the tricky corners. His soft hum was soothing, and he picked up his sketchbook and doodled with his feet tucked up on the bed, Joshua munching away on dust bunnies. It occurred to him that one of his ill-gotten art gains was a pack of sticker paper, so he exchanged that for his sketchbook and used a pack of coloured pencils to make a nametag for Joshua, along with several decorative pieces to put all over his chassis. He trapped him in the corner, tipped him upright so he couldn't trundle away, and stuck stickers everywhere that seemed safe to cover. 

He looked a lot more friendly like that. Happier too. Steve sat back on the bed, admiring his handiwork, until JARVIS let him know the dryer was done.

Steve brought everything up and piled it on his bed then folded and hung it all. His closets and drawers looked full for the first time, not crowded, but used, and he could almost understand Tony's shock and seeing them empty earlier. His space felt lived in, useful, and not as frivolous or wasteful as he thought it would feel. 

At the bottom of the pile was Tony's shirt. Steve pressed it to his face but now it smelled like laundry detergent instead of like Tony's warm, comforting, alpha presence. Steve folded it and set it on the bedspread. Then he picked it up again. He should be kind and give it back to him, right? But Tony was at work, not even in the tower according to JARVIS, and he didn't know where else to put it. It belonged in Tony's room, in his dresser. Did Tony have a dresser? Steve hadn't actually ever seen his room, which was sort of a wild realization.

He took the shirt and padded down the hall to the door he knew was Tony's. The door was closed. 

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Would, um. Would Tony mind if I put this away for him? Or maybe I should put it somewhere else." He turned to go. It was a stupid idea, anyway. "It's okay."

"Mr. Stark has indicated that you are to have complete free-roam of the penthouse, excepting his workshop when he is working on sensitive projects."

"Even his bedroom?"

"Yes, sir."

"He said that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh." Steve clutched the t-shirt to his chest, probably wrinkling it horribly. He reached for the doorknob. He held his hand around it for a moment, palm sweating, then turned it and pushed. 

It wasn't quite what he was expecting. The room was simple, straightforward, and impersonal. It also wasn't even as big as Steve's, and clearly wasn't meant to be the master bedroom. Steve stepped inside and looked around. Tony had a dresser, a walk-in closet, and an ensuite bathroom, but none of them was particularly impressive, certainly not as flamboyantly extravagant as the rest of the home. 

There were a few touches of Tony - the carefully organized watch collection peeking out of the closet, the small pile of screwdrivers on the bedside table, and technology everywhere, but it wasn't as  _ Tony  _ as the workshop, or even as the living room. It made Steve feel slightly unsettled about his own rooms. He'd thought it was important to Tony that he personalize his space, but it didn't seem important to Tony to even personalize his own space. But there was also something kind of off about it too, like a temporary room had been set up while Tony was renovating, but he didn't seem to be renovating anything.

Steve's fingers wandered over the surfaces in the room of their own account. He really should put the shirt back. He stepped into Tony's enormous walk-in closet, wondering if he had a special shelf for t-shirts, and couldn't help but admire the collection of little drawers that lined one wall. He slid one open and peered inside to find an expansive array of cufflinks. Having fun now, Steve tried the next drawer and found ties. The next was pocket squares, and the big one on the bottom -

He froze, fingers clenching around the drawer pull. 

The drawer was velvet lined, with carefully folded tissue paper separating its contents. And Steve didn't have to pull one out to know that what he was looking at was at least ten, beautiful, carefully crafted, shockingly expensive knotting wraps.

Steve peeled his finger off the handle and ran it delicately down the painted silk surface of one of them. They were incredible. Steve knew about knotting wraps, had seen some, but never like this. He couldn't imagine anyone ever wearing something like this. Well, maybe he could. Some perfect, long-legged omega with porcelain skin and thick, dark eyelashes…

He pulled his hand back. Why so many though? He couldn't help but entertain the idea that Tony used them with omegas he was with, but they were for bonded couples only. And now Tony was bonded and he didn't intend to use any of them, let alone ten. Maybe they were gifts. Or family heirlooms. Or maybe Tony had secretly bonded with ten other omegas on the side and Steve was his show-omega while the other ones were the ones he - the ones he  _ actually  _ wanted to…

Steve shoved the drawer shut. He shouldn't have come here in the first place let alone dug through Tony's things. He puttered around until he found a drawer filled with t-shirts. He smoothed the shirt he carried with him on top of the others then closed it carefully and slipped back out of the room, latching the door behind him. He wasn't going to obsess about something that had nothing to do with him and never would.

**

"Steve! You're here!" Connie called as soon as Steve pulled open the front door to the library. She clapped her hands together. "Look at this!" She dragged him down the hall then spun around, biting her bottom lip, watching him take it in.

In the centre of the room, an area had been cleared to make space for a pile of large boxes that must have been delivered that morning. Most of the boxes had been opened and there was packaging everywhere. Next to the main desk, still in pieces, was a brand new, shiny computer system, and the first box of books that caught Steve's eye was an entire set of art reference books.

"Who sent this?" Steve asked breathlessly.

"It was an anonymous donation."

Steve almost laughed. It most definitely wasn't. He knew exactly who was responsible. His stomach twisted and churned. Tony had bought books and computers for the library. He had to know that Steve would know it was him, and he probably thought everyone else would assume it was him too, or that Steve would tell them. Tony had no idea that Steve had never told the library he was bonded. 

So Steve had told Tony he was free to live his own life without worrying about hurting Steve's feelings, and a week later, after spending the night before out late somewhere - because Steve heard him stagger in at two in the morning - he had all of this delivered straight to Steve's work. It was worse than a damn trip to the Mediterranean. At least if Tony had tried to push plane tickets or a gem the size of a car across the table in the morning, Steve could have thrown it back in his face, but now he was stuck at work all day, needing to pretend he was excited, happy, and just as clueless as to the donor as his coworkers until he got home. He was going to have to unpack, file, and shelve the evidence of his own damn alpha's damn cheating.

_ It's not cheating,  _ he said to himself, _ you said he could.  _ But when he'd said that, he hadn't expected Tony to feel guilty and try and make it up to him. He wanted to be able to just close his eyes and pretend it wasn't happening. This was the exact opposite of that. 

"Look!" Connie held up a new scanner gun. "It works every time!"

"That's great," Steve managed to stutter out. "This is amazing. Um. Overwhelming. You really don't know who sent it?"

"Nope."

"Ah."

Dot had her head deep in a box of books and was squealing with delight. Steve tried to be happy, he really did. Why did it matter how it came to be when it was such a boon for the library? But no matter how many times he told himself that, it wouldn't sink in.

He was angry, really. Angry that Tony had involved this job, the one place where he didn't have to think about who he wasn't anymore and who he had to be from now on. The one place where he was "Steve" instead of "Tony's omega." The one place that had stayed the same. Tony had infiltrated it with his stupid apology gifts because he couldn't just fall in love with Steve instead of going out and getting his knot wet with some debutante from -

Or rather - because he couldn't just have picked that omega in the first place, instead of ripping Steve out of his life and making him live Tony's. If Steve was fantasizing, that was what he really wanted. Freedom. Obviously, since they were stuck together, it'd be nice if Tony liked him, maybe even wanted him, just - just so he didn't have to know he was living his life unloved from now on, forever, but - but

A sniffle threatened Steve's nose so he excused himself to go to the bathroom where he stared in the mirror and forced himself not to cry.

He was angry and he was hurt, there were no two ways about it. He'd told Tony to go find his fun elsewhere, but apparently there was a not-so-small part of him that had been hoping Tony would refuse the offer. Well, that he couldn't do anything about, but he certainly could give Tony a piece of his mind for daring to contaminate his one safe space. And if Tony wanted to kick him out for yelling? Well, fuck it, he wasn't going to be able to hold his tongue for the next thirty years so Tony might as well get used to it now or punt him to the street while he still remembered how to be poor. He'd never get the money out of his account if that happened, whatever Tony said. There's no way he'd let him have it if he was discarded in anger, but he had some nice things now that maybe he could sell and Buck would let him stay with him. Maybe when Sam came home they could all live together and Steve could be their cover, pretending to be bonded to Buck so he and Sam could be together freely and Steve could just be free.

Yes. That was what he wanted.

And then Tony could go fuck whoever he liked and it'd be no business whatsoever of Steve's.

Steve kept working himself into a tizzy all day, and by the time his shift ended, he felt like a popcorn kernel in a very hot pan. 

As soon as he got home, Steve stormed straight into Tony's workshop, and barely had surprise to spare for how the door just opened under his hand. "Why did you do that?!" he shouted.

Tony startled up from his desk and spun around both hands up, palms out. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Why did you have all that stuff sent to my work?"

Tony blinked for a moment. "It was anonymous…"

"Come on, Tony! I'm not stupid!"

"I know you're not - I just - okay, yes it was me. I meant - no one  _ else  _ was supposed to know."

"No one else does know. I didn't tell them. They think it was anonymous. They don't even know about you." Steve crossed his arms over his chest like a shield.

Something unreadable flickered across Tony's face. "Oh. Well, if you're not worried about me buying you a promotion, what is it?"

Steve huffed, exasperated. "It's not about what other people think, it's about what it says to me, okay? I don't need that. I don't need you to do that. You don't have to say sorry with money, Tony.  _ I get it.  _ But it doesn't mean I like it, and I'd rather not have it shoved in my face at the one place I can be myself."

"Wow, I - uh - I don't - I didn't mean it to be that way. Whatever 'that way' is." Tony opened his mouth then closed it again. "Doesn't mean you like what?"

Steve shuffled in place. "You know. What you're… doing. What you're apologizing for. I'd rather you just didn't mention it."

"Apologizing?"

"Yeah. With the books and stuff."

"I don't know what you mean. You hate the books? What do you want me to do, chuck them off a cliff?"

Steve growled. "I don't hate the books, I hate what they  _ mean."  _

"I don't - what are you talking about?"

"It was, you know, an apology gift."

"An apology? For what?"

"Well, not an apology, because I said you should, but, like, maybe you felt a bit guilty?" Now that he was saying it out loud, it didn't seem quite right.

Tony blinked at him. "I still don't know what for."

Was Tony really going to make him spell it all out? "I said you could -" Steve cleared his throat "- be with other omegas. And you were gone the other night, and I assumed that was where you were, which is  _ fine,  _ but then you felt guilty in the morning and those omegas at Elaine's were talking about all the jewelry and trips and stuff they got, and I don't really wear jewelry but you know how much I like books, you got me the cufflinks, and -" Steve's stomach dropped out. Oh god, had those been an apology gift too?

"What?!" Tony leapt to his feet. "I was  _ not - _ I wasn't with someone else! I was on a conference call. With Hong Kong. Time zones are fucky. Sometimes I have to work late at night. You said I could  _ be with other omegas?  _ When did you say that? And you think I'd take you up on it? Jesus, Steve."

"I - yes! The other night. We talked about pretending and I said I didn't want to pretend anymore and I knew you had another life and it's okay, but I didn't mean that I wanted to see the evidence of it show up at my office!"

"I honestly have no clue what you're talking about. I ordered that stuff over two weeks ago, but some of the computer parts were on backorder and I wanted to make sure it all worked when it arrived so I asked them to hold off on the delivery until they had everything."

"Two weeks?" Steve stopped. "That was before Bucky."

"Yes." Tony pushed his hand back through his hair. "It has nothing to do with what you said. Which - I would like to point out - if I knew  _ that  _ was what you meant, I would have had a little more to say back!"

"Oh."

Tony took Steve by both his shoulders. "Steve. I'm really, really,  _ really  _ sorry that I stole your chance to fall in love. I wish I could give it back to you, I really do. I will never stop being sorry about that. But that thing you said? About this meaning something to you even though we didn't find each other the regular way? That's true for me too. I made a commitment to you when I selected you. It was a choice. And I picked you. Not because I felt sorry for you or because I was pressed for time, but because I thought we were compatible. And I'll never push you or force you or make you feel unsafe by trying to turn this into something it's not, or take anything from you, but I do care about you, a lot. And I want this relationship to be positive for both of us." He deflated on a long sigh. "I think we can make it work. Don't you?"

Steve had no words, just opening and closing his mouth.

Tony's brow crinkled. "I want it to work. I want to take care of you. I don't want you to feel like we're faking it when we walk the red carpet together. I want to be your friend and I want you to trust me. I'd never cheat on you, Steve. Never. That's not something I need. You're part of my family, now, and I'd never risk embarrassing you like that. The books really were just books. I like your library and I can see how much you love it. I wanted to - I just wanted to give something… something good..." Tony sounded almost desperate now. "That's what I do…"

Steve swallowed heavily. "Oh. Okay. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled."

"It's okay. You were upset. But I seem to be upsetting you a lot lately, and I don't like that. What can I do?"

Steve started to say there was nothing he could do and then he stopped himself. Tony was trying, and if Tony was trying, he had to try too. He was right - all of this would be much easier if they could be friends. After all, it wasn't like he'd enjoyed floating around the penthouse by himself; life with Tony was certainly more exciting, even if it was also more frustrating. And he was the one with free time, and freedom of movement, so maybe… maybe he should spend some of that time with Tony. "Actually. Can I - could I be down here sometimes? Just spend some time in your space with you? It's okay if I'd be in the way, but I just feel like we don't really hang out much, but I know you need to work, and I'd like to be friends too. So. If it's okay. I can bring my sketchbook down…"

"Yes. Yes. Absolutely." Tony spun around and started waving at DUM-E. "Clear off the table there - no the other table - and check the couch for gears. Make it like, Steve compatible, please!" He turned back. "All yours. Your couch. Just - if the windows are blacked out and J won't let you in, I'm working on something for SI that I can't show you, okay? It's not that I don't trust you, it's company policy."

Steve nodded. "Okay. That's okay."

Tony beamed, and it occurred to Steve that he hadn't seen him smile like that very often. "I have to - uh - work on some blueprints." He gestured vaguely, but there was something hopeful in his eyes.

"Oh. Well, I need to change but then I could bring my sketchbook down?"

Tony nodded. "Okay."

"Okay." They were back to the okay thing again. When Steve died that would be what they put on his gravestone. "Steven Grant Rogers Stark: Okay." He turned around and marched off for the stairs before Tony could say "okay" again. He ran all the way upstairs and right into the shower. Clean, he put on comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt and filled a bag with some of his art supplies that would travel well. He stopped to knock outside the workshop, but the door just swung open so he let himself in.

Tony had turned on music, but it was softly in the background, and he himself was on his feet, leaning over a flat tabletop with holographic blueprints glowing above the surface. He was staring intently at one corner of a shape Steve couldn't begin to comprehend, but it looked like a complicated network of some kind. Or maybe something chemical. Steve stepped closer, holding his art supplies close to his chest. Tony seemed so absorbed he hadn't noticed Steve come in, but he should know he was there, right?

"That looks complicated," Steve said, giving Tony the space to offer more or dismiss him.

"Hmm? Oh, it's not that complicated. I mean, it is, but thankfully the parts I need to understand aren't that complicated." Tony leaned back and gestured at the table. "Trying to invent a better - uh - pacemaker, but the best elements for the job have toxic output." He rapped his fingers on the table then swept his hand through the blueprint and it disappeared. Something else took its place. "And this is me trying to maximize the power-to-weight ratio for adapting a silicone-infused gold-titanium alloy from use in satellites to use in. Planes. Drones. That kind of thing. Don't want them icing up and falling out of the sky."

"No. No, you don't. I've never been on a plane, but falling out of the sky sounds unpleasant."

"You've never been on a plane?"

"No. Never really been anywhere."

Tony's eyes twinkled. "Where do you want to go?"

"We're not going anywhere, right now, Tony," Steve warned. "I have to work again tomorrow. And so do you."

Tony bounced on the balls of his feet. "We can be back by tomorrow! Paris? Bali? Uhh, Hawaii?"

Steve laughed. "Tony, no. Someday, yeah. That'd be nice. But you have to work and so do I. No planes."

"Don't let me forget. We'll go somewhere." And somehow it didn't sound like an apology gift this time. There was something about the  _ "we"  _ that made it sound like an adventure, instead.

"Okay." Steve plopped himself down on the couch and burrowed into his sketchbook so Tony would stop letting him be a distraction. 

It wasn't long before Steve was truly absorbed in his art and time started to fly by. The sound of the TV clicking on had him looking up to realize it was dark outside and JARVIS had turned on the seven o'clock news. Tony was leaning back in his chair, one hand on his mouse, and the other turned to watch as the anchor introduced the top stories.

Steve let it wash over him until he heard, "Iron Man was spotted again," and he looked up so fast, his neck cracked.

_ "- until late last night. Authorities still refuse to release any information about the identity of the pilot, and while several eyewitnesses are confident that Iron Man's 'home base' seems to be New York, no one has been able to trace it further." _

Steve set his pencil down and almost opened his mouth to ask JARVIS to save the pictures they flashed across the screen before he remembered Tony was there. He looked over at Tony to find Tony looking at him with one eyebrow raised. "The armour is fun to paint," Steve said defensively, not entirely sure what he was defending.

"Mhm." Tony looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Steve frowned. Pretty unfair to get petty over Steve having a tiny bit of a crush on what was almost a fictional character, he was so  _ unreal  _ when Tony was the one who had put Steve in the position of being frustrated in love in the first place.

Steve kind of wanted to tell him he'd met Iron Man, however briefly, but he didn't think that would go over well. "Don't you think he's a good person?"

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know. Trying to be, probably. Hard to get right, though. It doesn't bother you that no one knows who he is?"

Steve shook his head. "I get it. It keeps all the stupid stuff out of it, the politics and the reporters and stuff. If people knew, he'd probably never get any sleep, hounded all the time."

"But then he could - people would have a say in what he did. It wouldn't just be one man's word against the world."

"I don't see how 'people' would make any better decisions than one man. At least for now, he's helping people. As long as that's what he's trying to do."

"Trying to help can hurt sometimes."

"Maybe," Steve agreed. "But it's good enough for me. At least for now. It's pretty obvious he's been targeting black market arms dealers. I'm not sure 'people' would necessarily always have the best decision-making skills when it comes to that. Lotta money involved." He wondered if Tony's anti-Iron Man stance had anything to do with having been an arms dealer himself. SI still hadn't fully extracted itself from the market. Maybe Iron Man was causing problems for them.

But Tony didn't argue back. "Yeah," he said. "Lotta money." He turned back to his work as the news segment moved on, and Steve went back to his art.

Over the next three days, they formed a strange sort of routine that almost sprung up out of nowhere, and though they didn't speak about it, it just happened. Whenever they were both home from work, Tony went down to his workshop and Steve joined him with his sketchbook or something to read. The first time he brought one of his romance novels down, Steve tucked it inside his sketchbook, but by the third day, he was bold enough to read it out in the open and Tony didn't comment.

Tony had his arms deep in the belly of one of his vintage cars when Steve's pocket vibrated and he pulled his old phone out.

_ Free tomorrow? _

Steve pondered Tony's back for a moment. "Hey, Tony?"

"Mhm?"

"Do you think - would it be okay if Bucky came over tomorrow so you two could meet properly?"

Tony went very still for a moment then went back to his work. "Yeah. Of course. I'm free - well maybe after noon, cause I have a meeting in the morning."

"Alright. Thank you."

"Mhm."

_ Tony wants to meet you,  _ he sent back.  _ Come in the afternoon. _

_ Is he going to have me quietly done away with? _

Steve snorted out a laugh and Tony glanced his way but didn't ask.

_ No, you're fine. There'll be food.  _

_ I'm in. _

"I can order lunch for all of us."

"Sounds good," Tony said.

"Anything in particular you want?"

Tony set his wrench down and stretched tall. He grabbed a rag and to wipe his hands off, turning towards the couch, and Steve was relieved to see he was smiling. "Nah. Anything you think Barnes will like. I'm hungry now, though. I think we have leftover lasagna?"

"Oh, yeah! I'll get some for us." Steve jumped up to his feet, but Tony cut him off, catching him by the arm.

"I'll do it. I need the break. Keep sketching."

"Are you sure? I can -"

But Tony was already walking out. "Keep sketching and texting your friend, Steve!"

Steve grinned down at his phone.  _ Come at 1.  _

A few minutes later, Tony set a plate of warmed up lasagna on the coffee table next to Steve and went back to his work.

**

When JARVIS announced "Mr. Barnes'" arrival the next afternoon, Steve was just about ready to wriggle right out of his skin. He wasn't sure what he was feeling nervous about, really, and in the end, it was pretty anticlimactic. 

Bucky came out of the elevator and went right to Tony, polite as can be, and shook his hand. Tony looked a bit out of sorts, but he smiled and spoke and shook Bucky's hand without it looking like he was attempting to break any fingers.

"You're not really going to wait for an introduction are you?" Tony said with a laugh when Bucky still hadn't looked Steve's way.

"Just being polite," Bucky replied awkwardly, hands in his pockets. "He's yours now, after all."

Tony's eyes cut over to Steve and they were glowing with something Steve couldn't put his finger on. "Not sure he can really be anyone's…" he mused, and Steve rolled his eyes, making Tony chuckle. "But I'm also pretty sure he'll always be more yours." Still, Tony hooked his arm around Steve's shoulders and said, "Mr. Barnes, this is my omega, Steve." Then he ruined it by shoving Steve towards Bucky so he caught him in a hug. "Now stop being weird and formal and someone tell me if the egg rolls have arrived or what."

Steve laughed and squeezed his arms around Bucky's middle, breathing in the calmness of his scent. "I ordered double egg rolls, Tony," he said, peeking out from under Bucky's arm. "And those crab things."

"Fuck, yeah." Tony threw himself into an armchair and Steve led Bucky to the couch then sat down at the opposite end, feet up on the cushion so his toes lightly touched Bucky's thigh. It still ached in a good way that Bucky was home, and Steve couldn't quite believe that he was here. "So what was Steve like as a kid?"

Bucky grinned like a shark and Steve smacked him in the thigh with his foot. "Don't start telling tall tales," Steve warned him.

"I don't even have to. I can tell short tales for hours before I have to dip into tall." Bucky turned to Tony. "Stevie was the most terrifying best friend to have growing up." He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back on the couch. "He'd throw himself head first into just about anything if he thought it was the right thing to do. Would've enlisted right alongside me if he could."

Steve folded his arms across his chest. He could feel Tony's eyes on him.

"The food has arrived," JARVIS announced, and Steve leapt to his feet, pinning Tony - who had also started to rise - back in his chair with a glare. It was silly, but Steve kind of wanted to play house-omega. Just a little bit. He knew it would feel awful to be stuck in that role all the time, to have to, but when it was for Bucky and Tony, it felt sort of nice to bring them food, feed them, feel like he could take care of them, especially considering how much both of them had taken care of him. 

He also had a weird, and not entirely comfortable, urge to show Bucky that things were working here, that he was happy being Tony's omega, even though it spat in the face of everything he'd told Bucky he'd always wanted. He didn't want Buck to worry about him, that was mostly it, and he wanted Bucky and Tony to get along, that was important, and he knew if Bucky thought he was unhappy in any way, he'd confront Tony about it, his own wellbeing be damned.

The takeout had been left in the elevator in bags, so Steve took it to the kitchen and opened all the packaging. He didn't go as far as putting it in bowls, since they'd be happiest eating out of containers anyway, but he got plates and napkins and put everything on a tray and carried it into the living room. 

Tony had moved to the loveseat perpendicular to Bucky's couch and he fixed Steve with a pointed look that Steve couldn't interpret when he set the food down. Then Tony reached out and hooked one belt loop on his jeans and drew Steve over and down onto the seat next to him. He picked up a plate and Steve folded his hands in his lap and waited. It seemed he wasn't the only one eager to put on a bit of a show for Bucky.

Bucky shot Steve a smile which made him want to stick his tongue out at him, but then he took his own plate and started piling it up. Tony carefully selected a plate of food for Steve, somehow knowing what to skip and what to double up on, then handed it to Steve. Their fingers brushed as Steve took the plate, and he met Tony's eyes which were fixed on his face. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Tony seemed to be waiting for something, and Steve wasn't sure what, so he picked up a spring roll and started to eat. A moment later, Tony turned and dug through the containers to fill his own plate.

The rest of the afternoon passed amicably enough. Tony kept Steve on the loveseat through sheer, vibrating intensity alone, and Steve found that being pressed up against Tony's solid warmth and comforting scent wasn't all bad, anyway. Conversation drifted across all lanes and continents, and Bucky even drew Tony into a deep discussion about some of SI's products they used overseas. Bucky mentioned Sam once or twice, and Steve was dying to press for more, but he didn't want to around Tony if Bucky wasn't ready to share, and he didn't seem inclined to.

It was warm and cosy, and comfortable, though, and Steve couldn't help grinning every time he made them both laugh, or Bucky teased Tony, or Tony's elbow bumped Steve's as his gesturing expanded to fill the whole room.

It was a few hours later when Bucky yawned and stretched tall. "I have a late shift tonight so I'd better get going."

"Alright." Tony stood too and offered him his hand. "Thanks for coming over. It was great to finally meet you."

"You too." They shook.

"You're welcome here any time," Tony said. Then he shifted awkwardly. "Uh. Steve might have told you that I have some… issues with the press. And I'd prefer it if you two could hang out here instead of elsewhere, but I have no problem with you being friends, you know that, right? So come over whenever and you never have to stand on ceremony for me."

Steve snorted quietly because this coming from the alpha that suddenly had felt the need to feed him just because another alpha was there. But it was nice, too, he couldn't lie. And he could understand why it might be hard for Tony, even with his omega unclaimed. He was still  _ Tony's.  _ And surely some of Tony's instincts still reacted to that, even if certain others didn't seem to want to.

Steve patted Tony once on the back in gratitude. "I'll walk you out." He followed Bucky to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Bucky turned to him.

"Wow. That boy's got it bad for you, Stevie."

"What? No. It's not like that between us. I told you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Steve knew the frustration was leaking into his voice. "He was the one who made it abundantly clear - more than once - that we are just doing this for - for -" Steve waved his hand in the air then dropped it. "We're friends, now, which is nice. That's it. I'm grateful for that."

"Okay." Bucky held his hands up in surrender.

Bucky just didn't get it. He was misinterpreting how Tony could be possessive as feelings that weren't there. Tony obviously liked the idea of having an omega, of Steve being his, but that didn't mean he was  _ attracted  _ to him. Not in  _ that way.  _ But Bucky couldn't understand what that was like.

"Does that bother you?" Bucky elbowed him gently.

"No. It's fine. It's good. He could have been such an awful person, Buck. I'm so grateful he treats me well."

"You didn't want 'treated well,' though, you wanted… romance. I know you, Steve."

"It's okay. Honestly." Steve tried to shoot him a reassuring smile. "I've grown out of that. I'm safe and comfortable and really fucking rich, and Tony's turning into one of my best friends. It's way more than I ever could have hoped for."

The elevator doors slid open.

"Okay. As long as you're alright." Bucky pulled Steve into a hug then set off through the lobby for the front doors.

The elevator let Steve back out into the living room and he found Tony still sitting on the couch. He sat on the ottoman opposite and curled his feet up under him. "Thanks."

"For what?" Tony laughed.

"You know." Steve shrugged. "Not every alpha would be okay with how we are. How close we are."

Tony's smile softened, warmed. "He's your Rhodey, I get it. You guys can't help that one of you is an alpha and the other is an omega. Plus I get the impression Bucky uh -" Tony trailed off, biting his lip.

"Bucky what?" Steve asked with a sly smile.

"Bats for another team?" Tony finished, tipping the corner of his lips up coyly.

Steve's eyebrow shot towards the ceiling. "You can tell? I didn't even know that until like a week ago. I don't think Buck even knew."

Tony shrugged. "I meet a lot of people. I'm good at reading people." He narrowed his eyes at Steve. "Most people."

Steve got a little thrill out of being challenging for Tony to read. It was a silly thing to enjoy, but it made him feel special. 

"Anyway. I can relate."

"You - you and alphas?"

Tony laughed. "You're going to have to get me pretty wasted to get details outta me, but I enjoyed my college days." He pointed a stern finger at Steve. "That's all you get."

"Until I get you drunk?" Steve batted his eyelashes innocently.

"Brat." Tony swatted at him half heartedly and Steve laughed, dodging out the way which tipped him off the ottoman. He flopped into an armchair instead, picking up the sketchbook he'd left on the table next to it and flipping it open to a hand study he'd been working on. He sketched in silence for a few minutes. 

"Hey, Steve?" Tony's voice was soft and questioning.

"Yeah?"

"Have dinner with me tonight?"

Steve's pencil paused and he looked up to find Tony grinning at him. "Okay? I mean. I'm here every night. We can have dinner whenever you want, Tony."

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him. "Don't think I didn't notice the not-so-subtle dig at me never being around for dinner."

"I would  _ never  _ dig you." Steve dropped his eyes to his sketch again, tongue peeking out between his teeth.

"Mouthy. Anyway. I will deign to show for dinner tonight and I'd like to get something special. Had a bit of a breakthrough at work and I'm feeling celebratory. Are scallops okay?"

Steve shrugged. "Sure." He had no clue what a scallop was, but if Tony thought they were special, Steve wanted to try them. "You sure you don't want me to make something?"

"No, it's okay. You finish up your drawing and I'll get JARVIS to order."

Tony wandered off, muttering to JARVIS about green beans and Prosecco, and Steve smiled down at his sketchpad. He didn't love DUM-E's placing, but the workshop was starting to come together and he had Tony's general outline sketched in. If he worked hard on it, he could have it done in a few days. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to do it in acrylics or digitally, though.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, and when JARVIS warned him that the catering team would be serving at eight, Steve set his supplies aside and ran upstairs to change. He put on his nicest pair of khakis and a button down shirt, making sure his undershirt said, "A well-read omega is a dangerous creature," just in case Tony could see it underneath. He buttoned his top button with a smile then smoothed his hair down. 

It wasn't a date. Not really. They were already bonded, so Steve wasn't even sure they really could go on a date, and even if they could, Tony didn't want to date him. But he did want to eat dinner with him, and that was something. Something nice. Steve would take nice - if he couldn't have windswept, heart-pounding, earth-moving love, he'd settle for nice.

When he came back down, the kitchen had been closed off and the dining table had been set for two, complete with candles and fancy, origami cloth napkins. Tony was leaning against the doorway into the kitchen, chatting to the chef, but he looked up when Steve appeared and he smiled. "Hey, Steve."

"Hi. This looks nice."

Tony's cheeks actually flushed and he chuckled softly. "Yeah. I may have told them to pull out all the stops, just for fun. But if it's too much we can turn the lights back up."

"Oh no, I wasn't being sarcastic. It really does look nice. I've never eaten like this. It feels fancy."

Tony laughed, real and full this time. "Good. Have a seat." He walked over and pulled Steve's chair out for him.

"Thank you." Steve sat, and as Tony eased his chair under him, he pressed close, his breath on the back of Steve's neck, and Steve forced his body not to react.  _ It doesn't mean anything. He's just close to you. It's nothing. _ Eventually, Tony stepped away, and Steve started breathing again. 

A server came out of the kitchen as Tony settled in his chair and laid a salad plate in front of each of them then disappeared again. Steve tried a bite, and he nearly moaned as the sharp, lemony dressing coated his tongue.

"Good?" Tony asked.

"Amazing."

"So um," Tony started, pushing his salad around his plate. "How's work going?"

"Good. It's fine. Well…"

"Well?"

"Well, our funding is getting slashed again next month and they're going to have to cut programs which really sucks. The first thing to go is going to be the After School Reading Room, which I did the programming for."

"Oh, wow. I didn't know you did that."

"Not anymore, I guess." Steve chased the last piece of lettuce around his plate. "It means a lot to me cause I spent almost every day after school at the library before I was old enough to take care of myself. The Reading Room is all ages and my mom could leave me there with some books and know I'd be warm and safe. Sometimes the librarians would even have snacks for some of the kids they knew weren't getting enough at home."

"That sounds like a really valuable resource."

Steve chastised himself for the way he'd briefly entertained the thought that Tony would think that was silly, that they should just hire a babysitter. For all he grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, Tony seemed to really be trying to understand where Steve came from. "It was. Vital, even. I know there are parents who have to choose between work and caring for their child. But if they don't work, they won't be able to provide for them. It's an impossible choice, and the After School Reading Rooms really help. But Brooklyn won't have one anymore."

"Well, how much does it cost? Can't you just fund it yourself?"

Steve blinked at Tony, his mouth falling open. "Oh my god. I have money, now."

Tony laughed softly. "You have money, now."

"Wow. I have no idea how much it costs. I'd want to give them enough to keep the program going after me, though, It's only a bandaid if I fund it now. Government funding is just going to keep getting slashed."

"So you need to put infrastructure in place. Start a trust or maybe a charity if you want others to contribute too. Oh! You could have an annual event. And you set up a base funding allocation to keep the Reading Room going and then extra funds will be distributed to the libraries if they're collected. It can -"

"Whoa, Tony. Slow down. I can't do all that."

"Well, I'll get you help, of course."

"Sorry, I should have said, I can't do _ any _ of that." 

"Why not?"

Steve spluttered uselessly then forced himself to sit back and fold his hands in his lap, lips pursed tightly together, as the server reappeared and replaced the salad plates with the main course. Steve waited til she left again then hissed, "Because I'm an omega!" at Tony.

"So what?"

"So  _ what?  _ Spoken like a true alpha. No one will give me the time of day. Charities are like businesses, I know that, at least the good ones are, the ones that make a big difference, and I can't run a business. They won't let me."

"Oh come on. Don't give up before you've even tried."

"Tony -"

"No, listen. I get it. I know you think I don't get it, but I do. But my mother founded, ran, and organized four charities without a single raised finger from my father. She kicked ass and she was an omega and that was thirty years ago. I get that it's going to be challenging, but you're rich, you're brilliant, and you're backed by one of the most powerful alphas in the country. I'm not saying you have to do this, of course you don't, but if you want to? Do it. I won't let you fail."

Steve was all but shaking in his seat, utterly overwhelmed by the intensity of Tony's words. "I'm - really?"

Tony softened. "Really. Let me get you some meetings with a few people, if you want them. Then you can see if it's something you want to pursue. I don't want to push you."

"No, it's… no I want to. I'll meet people. I'm terrified," he added, with a nervous laugh, "but it's important to me, so I should do something. Instead of just talking about it." Steve speared one of the golden brown pillows on his plate and shoved it in his mouth. It wasn't what he was expecting at all, fluffy and smooth and buttery, like a savory marshmallow. He made a noise of delighted surprise, and Tony started eating too.

"This is amazing," Steve said, when he'd swallowed.

"Yeah, I love scallops. They're best simple. Chef Fredricks is a dream, so talented."

They ate in silence for a while, then Steve asked about some of Tony's employees and conversation drifted on. Tony ended up telling stories about him and Rhodey at MIT, mostly causing trouble from what Steve could tell. It wasn't long before Steve found his plate was empty. He set his fork down, his hand going to his belly automatically. "That was delic-" he started to say, but a server coming in cut him off. "More? Really?"

"Can't have a nice meal without dessert," Tony said with a sly smile. There was something uncertain at the edges of it, though. 

The server set down a large plate between them and pulled the cloche off. It was a cake. A chocolate cake, small, but beautifully decorated with little iced roses and glittering sprinkles.

"Wow." Steve longed to reach out and run his finger through the perfect icing. 

"You - uh. You said it was your favourite food," Tony said, picking up the knife that lay next to it and fiddling with the handle. 

"I did? Oh. Yeah, I did." Steve smiled at the memory. He'd been so terrified of Tony back then. 

"Is it okay? You like chocolate?"

"Oh yeah, it's great. Thank you." This was the kind of cake Steve had always coveted around his birthday. It just felt so  _ special.  _

Tony offered him the handle-end of the knife and Steve reached out to take it then paused. "You okay?" Tony asked. "Too full? We can save it."

"Oh, no. I was thinking… it's just us, right?" Steve chewed his bottom lip and looked up at Tony hopefully.

"Yeah."

"Can we just… stick forks in it? I've always wanted to do that but the rare times I had cake I was trying to make it last so I'd cut tiny, little pieces."

Tony laughed. "Yeah, of course. Eat it with our hands if you want to."

Steve set down the knife and picked up his fork. "Fork is good. Eat with me though."

"Alright." Tony smiled indulgently.

Steve swept his fork through one of the icing roses and brought it to his lips. It was sweet and creamy, not too sugary but heavy enough that there must have been a lot of butter in the icing. Tony dug in on the other side, eyes narrowing with focus as he carved a bite out of the side. 

They worked their way through the cake, letting their forks wander wherever they wanted, even as the cake disintegrated into a crumbly mess on the platter. Steve's stomach ached with overeating but he never wanted to stop. 

"What are you working on right now?"

Tony shrugged, his tongue darting out to swipe chocolate from the corner of his lip. "Nothing particularly exciting. A new kind of thruster. Some infrastructure stuff. Boring."

"Doesn't sound boring to me. Sounds complicated."

"What about you. What's on the easel right now?"

"I'm trying to work on anatomy." Steve blushed as he thought about some of the pictures he'd worked from, tracing the curves and muscles with a clinical eye while he painted, but after, he could see the sensuality in them. "Lots of nude studies." He cleared his throat when Tony's eyebrow went up.

"Well, now, there's something I'd like to see," Tony said with a soft laugh. "Whenever you want to show me."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, you can come look any time."

"Really?"

Tony's hesitancy rocketed Steve back to the last time Tony had come into his sitting room to see his paintings and he winced. "Yes. Really." He could control himself. He had to. They were going to be living together. This dinner was perfect proof that they could make this work. It could be seen as romantic, sure, and to the outside world, it would like that way, much like their relationship would look, but they both knew it was respectful and affectionate but platonic. That was all. That was still  _ good.  _ It was so much better than being fearful and uncertain. "I'm working on perspective too. Taking online classes. Trying to learn to see things from all sides."

Tony's head snapped eyes and their eyes met for a moment. "That's good. Sounds hard."

Steve nodded. "Depends on what you're drawing."

"Well," Tony said, his focus back on the dwindling cake instead of Steve. "I'd like to see."

"Okay." Steve finally set down his fork and shook his head. "You're going to have to roll me into the other room, Tony. I'm so full."

Tony's smile went soft again. "Go into the living room - unless you need me to carry you -" his eyes twinkled, and Steve shook his head, grinning "- and I'll send everyone home so you can pop your top button."

Steve pushed up out of his seat with a groan and made for the living room while Tony went to the kitchen. Steve tugged a cosy afghan down over his legs, curling up in the corner of the couch. The drowsiness of a full, delicious dinner and two glasses of wine settled over him and he tipped his head back, eyelids blinking heavily. The other side of the couch dipped as Tony settled there, Steve's feet mere inches from his thigh. "Thank you." Steve said. "That was really nice. I've never had scallops before, but they were really tasty."

"Wait - what?" Tony sat up sharply, knocking Steve's eyes open again. "You  _ what?"  _

"What?"

"I asked if they were okay, and you said yes!"

Steve blinked at him. "Well, yeah. I'm okay with trying new things."

"Steve! Scallops are  _ shellfish.  _ I thought you knew that. Oh, fuck. You're allergic to shrimp - that's why I asked. Fuck. Have you ever had other shellfish? Crab? Lobster? Oysters?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Do I seem like someone who's had oysters?"

"Shit. What if you're allergic to all shellfish?"

"I feel okay."

"J, how long does a reaction take?" Tony pushed up off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. Steve leaned back over the edge of the couch to watch him as he rifled through a drawer next to the fridge. 

"Onset of anaphylaxis usually takes between three and thirty minutes, with the average being twenty minutes. Steve ate his first bite of scallop forty-six minutes ago."

"See, Tony. I'm fine."

Tony came back holding one of Steve's eip-pens. "J, can it be longer than thirty minutes?"

"In very rare cases, a reaction can happen many hours later," JARVIS said, with a tone that suggested he knew the downside of offering Tony this information.

"See!" Tony brandished the epi-pen at Steve like a weapon. "Hours, Steve."

He batted the epi-pen away. "With the shrimp it was only a few minutes before I was blowing up like a balloon."

All the blood drained out of Tony's face. "Don't say that."

"Tony… I'm going to be fine. My throat doesn't even feel weird, which sometimes it does for no reason."

"But if you're  _ not  _ fine, it can happen so fast. I can't believe it didn't occur to me that you wouldn't know what scallops were, Christ." Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm such an idiot."

Steve couldn't help but remember what it felt like after the shrimp, the burning in his mouth and throat, the sudden dizziness, nausea, the feeling of panic and then guilt and shame. The sheer terror of not being able to draw in a full breath. He tipped his chin down and took in a few deep, slow breaths.

"Steve?" Tony nearly crushed him, scrambling up on the couch to get his hand on Steve's neck, finding his pulse point.

"I'm okay!" Steve caught Tony's hand with his, squeezing in a way he hoped was reassuring. "I'm okay. You just freaked me out a bit, that's all."

"Shit. I'm sorry. You're right. You're right. I'm sure you're fine. It's been a while. If you were going to react, you already would have. Which is like - good news, right?" He laughed nervously. "Now you know you're not allergic to all shellfish."

Steve huffed out a laugh too. "Yeah, right. It's good to know. And this is definitely the way to do it. An allergist would be a silly way to test. Me eating six scallops while we're alone in our apartment is pretty ideal."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Tony. I shouldn't eat things when I don't know what they are. Not when I'm as… sensitive as I am."

Tony went tense. "There's nothing weak about having allergies."

Steve just shrugged. "It's fine." He slumped down, suddenly exhausted. 

Tony was quiet for a while then, "Movie?" he offered. 

"Yes, please."

"And if you feel any -"

Steve snorted, shaking his head. "If my toe itches, I'll tell you, Tony."

"Okay. Good."

Tony sort of snuggled closer in a way that was definitely protective and not… affectionate, but Steve's heart still skipped and stuttered at the heat of his arm stretched out along the back of the couch. Tony picked a simple romcom, and Steve let himself drift in and out, able to follow the basic plot without much attention. 

The anxiety wouldn't fade all the way, even though it had become more distant, and Tony's solid, warm presence certainly helped. Some embarrassment managed to leak in, without Tony holding his attention on other things, and Steve resisted the urge to squirm under Tony's arm. 

He should have tested for allergies, really, as soon as he reacted to shrimp. They could do that, test for allergies, and that would probably have been a better approach than living on an epi-pen and a prayer. Expensive, but if he'd saved, he probably could have made it work. It was silly, stupid, not to know what he was allergic to, dangerous, even. What if he  _ had  _ had a reaction right away? Tony wouldn't even have known why. He didn't want to do that to Tony. He needed to make an appointment with an allergist right away. Tony would want him to, and he could afford it now.

When the movie ended, Steve sat up and stretched, mourning the loss of Tony's arm as it slipped away. "I'm exhausted."

"Me too."

"I guess we should go to bed," Steve forced himself to say, even though he didn't quite want the night to end. 

Tony held out a hand as he pushed up off the couch, and Steve let himself be pulled up with him. They made their way upstairs and down the hall. Tony paused outside Steve's door, his expression pinched. "Um. Thanks for dinner. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He didn't move. "Are you sure you feel okay?"

Steve nodded. "I'm sure."

Tony took a step backwards towards his room. "But like - JARVIS said hours."

"Don't freak me out again, Tony." Steve crossed his arms across his chest and tried not to hug himself. "JARVIS can keep an eye on me."

"Sure. But he can't give you an epi-pen… Call me a crazy, protective, old alpha, but will you sleep in my room tonight? Or I'll sleep on your floor. Or like. Out in the hall. But I just. I know I'll be awake all night. I don't mean anything by it, you know -"

"I'll be awake all night too," Steve admitted, cutting him off. "Even though I'm  _ sure  _ I'm fine."

Tony brightened. "Can I sleep on your floor?"

"Don't be silly, Tony. I'll sleep in your room." 

"Are you sure? I don't want you to think I'm like, taking advantage or - or -"

Steve reached out and rested his hand on Tony's forearm. "I know you're not. You have a bed the size of a small continent. We can both be perfectly comfortable. No floors." Steve winced when he realized he'd admitted to snooping in Tony's room, but Tony didn't react.

"Okay." Tony slid his hand down to wind their fingers together instead and squeezed before releasing him. "Meet you there in five?"

Steve nodded then slipped away to his room. He changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt and brushed his teeth and washed his face. He watched the clock until five minutes had passed then made his way to Tony's room. The door was wide open, but the bathroom was closed and Steve could hear water running inside. A moment later, the door opened and Tony appeared in a cloud of warm steam, dressed in his own pajamas. His hair was damp and he was rubbing a towel over it, making the curls go wild and fall into his face. 

"What are you grinning at?" Tony asked, tossing the towel into the hamper.

Steve realized he'd been smiling up at Tony. "Nothing. Your hair looks silly without any stuff in it."

"Rude." Tony went to the dresser and started rummaging around. "You all set?"

"Yeah." Steve looked at the huge bed. "Do you have a side?"

Tony looked at the bed, his head on a curious tilt. "I don't, actually. Huh. I barely sleep here often enough to have a preference. I just sort of… collapse at random. Take whichever."

"Okay." Steve lifted the blankets on the right side and climbed up under them, staying smushed up towards the edge even though Tony could lie in the middle and still not touch him. This wasn't how he'd imagined sharing a bed with his alpha for the first time. He thought it would be all passion and intensity, and he wouldn't even have time to notice the bed or the room or anything but who he was with. Instead, it was warm and soft and easy. He didn't feel that passionate rush he'd fantasized about so many times, but it was safe, instead. He knew Tony wouldn't touch him - Tony didn't  _ want  _ to touch him, and he'd proved time and time again that he could control himself, even during Steve's heat - and even though a part of him wished Tony wouldn't, it also made the prospect of sharing a bed with him just feel, well, nice.

It was nice.

Tony disappeared into the closet then reappeared with a second duvet gathered in his arms. He shook it out over the other side of the bed then crawled under it, turning on his pillow to face Steve. "Hey."

"Hi." There was acres of space between them, but the room was dark and Tony's eyes were bright and fixed on Steve. 

"You know, this room isn't what I would have expected for you," Steve mused.

"What were you expecting? Black Sabbath posters or four million dollar art installations?"

Steve snorted. "Both? Something? It's so plain."

Tony stretched. "Yeah, well, I moved in here when you moved in so it hasn't been long enough for me to get annoyed or bored and hire a decorator."

"You moved? Why?"

"Yeah. The master is the locked room next to yours."

"Oh. I thought that was a cupboard."

Tony chuckled. "Nah. Your rooms were built as an omega suite, so there's a door connecting your bedroom to the master."

Steve frowned, calling up his mental image of the room. "No there isn't."

"It's behind the dresser. But it still felt weird and sort of invasive or something, but I wanted to make sure you had a sitting room and it was the only room that made sense. And I would have given you both rooms and the sitting room, but the master is full of my stuff and it was too late to change it when I selected you. So I just closed it up."

"You moved down the hall to a guest room so you wouldn't be too close to me?"

Tony nodded, then looked around at where they were now. "Seems kinda silly, I guess."

"No… no it's nice. Thank you. I appreciate the privacy." Or he  _ did.  _ Now it had morphed into loneliness but how to tell Tony that without hurting his feelings? They both fell silent and sleep started to swirl around Steve.

"Hey, JARVIS?" Tony asked the dark room.

"Yes, sir. If your omega so much as breathes funny, I will sound the alarm, call 9-1-1, flood the room with epinephrine gas, alert your entire security team, and begin lobbying your local congressman to do something about banning scallops from the continental US."

Tony glared up at the ceiling, and Steve giggled into the pillow. "You hear that? Getting sassed by my own creation. Mocked. Bullied."

Steve laughed harder. 

"I hear you taking his side."

"I thought you didn't have a side," Steve said cheekily, stretching his toes out under the sheets. The bed was starting to warm up and JARVIS' nonchalance made Steve feel better, his anxiety melting away in the big bed with Tony's calming alpha pheromones floating in the room. Even though he claimed not to sleep here much, the bed smelled deliciously of Tony, and Steve couldn't resist turning a little so each breath pulled more of him into his lungs.

"Do you snore?" Tony whispered.

Steve giggled again. "I don't think so. Maybe. You'll have to tell me."

"Oh, well I won't notice."

"Why not?"

"I'll be too busy snoring myself." 

Steve pulled his arm out of the blankets and smacked Tony on the shoulder. "You'd better not. I need all the beauty sleep I can get."

"You don't need a minute of it," Tony said softly, something bright in his eyes, and Steve squirmed under the unexpected attention. God, how had Tony managed this long without bonding? He was so charming. 

"Dinner was really nice," Steve said, attempting to change the subject. "Thank you."

"We should make it a regular thing."

"You'd like that?"

"I would."

"It's a date then." Steve's heart fluttered. "Whenever you want."

They fell into silence, and Steve felt the pull of sleep start to drift him down once more. Then Tony spoke again. "Hey, Steve?" he whispered.

"Yeah?" Steve slurred, his tongue heavy.

"Don't have an allergic reaction in your sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."


	9. Chapter 9

Steve woke up slowly, warm and comfortable, snuggled deep under a duvet that smelled like safety. He blinked his eyes open, and warm, brown ones were looking back at him from one pillow over. Steve yawned. "Good morning."

"You didn't have a horrible allergy attack in the night," Tony said, lips curling up into a smirk.

"Nope. Guess not." Steve smiled back.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

Steve shrugged. "I dunno. I was probably just going to make toast or something."

"Do you like french toast?"

Steve nodded.

"Wanna see a magic trick?"

Steve laughed. "Tony, what are you talking about?" 

Tony threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. Steve watched him go. He had the distinct impression he was supposed to wait right where he was. He pushed his hair back and yawned again, stretching out in the huge bed, warmed from their shared body heat.

Tony slipped out of the bedroom door then returned only a few minutes later with a huge tray piled high with french toast, fruit, syrup, butter, and icing sugar.

"Oh my god! How'd you do that so fast?"

Tony laughed, delighted and set the tray down on the bed, sitting next to it and folding his legs under him. "A magician never reveals his tricks."

"You ordered it before I woke up, didn't you?"

Tony smacked Steve lightly on the end of his nose with a spoon. "Yes. But please pretend to be impressed. It's important for my ego."

"As if your ego needs any more inflating, Mr. People's Most Eligible Alpha Four Years Running."

Tony gave Steve a look that heated him right down to his core. "Not anymore."

"Guess not…" Steve picked up a fork to give his hands something to do, cheeks heating.

"Do you have to work today?"

"Nope."

"Wanna see another magic trick?" Tony said around a mouthful of French toast.

Steve shook his head, laughing again. "Stop it."

"Let me take you on a plane for the first time. We'll throw a dart at a map."

"Tony…" He wanted to say yes.

"Let me remind you, sir," JARVIS began, "that Miss Potts -"

"Mute." Tony leaned forward over the tray. "Let's run away together."

Steve's eyes went wide. He had a flashing fantasy of Tony in a bathing suit on a beach somewhere, just the two of them, skin golden in the sun, waves lapping the sand nearby. Maybe if Tony saw him somewhere romantic like that…

But then Tony's face changed, eyes narrowing and smile curving into something wilder. "Actually… I have a better idea. J, clear my schedule for the day and have Olivia gassed up." Tony reached out and covered Steve's hand with his. "Do you trust me?"

Steve nodded. It was easy, really, to say yes.

"Okay. Finish your breakfast." Tony shoved the last of his French toast into his mouth then disappeared into his closet and then the bathroom. He reappeared a few minutes later smelling like minty toothpaste, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. 

Steve shoveled the rest of his food in and stumbled out of Tony's bed. "What should I wear?"

"Jeans, comfortable shoes," Tony said confidently. "I'll take care of the rest."

Steve wasn't sure what that meant but he rushed off towards his room, chest swelling with a feeling of adventure he hadn't had since he was a little kid. He took a quick shower and brushed his teeth. In his closet, he chose one of his older, rattier pairs of jeans and the Right to Read shirt that had caught Tony's eye in the first place then burst back out of his room and nearly ran into Tony who was coming out of his own room, arms full of leather.

Tony led the way to the elevator and hit the button for the garage. There was a backpack sitting in the elevator and he picked it up and swung it over one shoulder. "Excited?"

"Uh I guess?" Steve chuckled. "For all I know you're taking me to your secret murder dungeon, so it's tempered excitement."

Tony barked out a real laugh, eyes twinkling. The doors opened and he ushered Steve through. Steve took four steps in then stopped. One of Tony's bikes stood gleaming in red and chrome by the big bay doors, two helmets perched on the seat. "You're kidding," Steve said.

Tony pressed a hand to his back and drove him over to the bike. "I'm not kidding. Here." He held out part of his armload and it turned out to be a leather jacket. "Bit big, but you have to be protected."

Steve slipped his arms in it and pulled it on. It was too big, in the same way all of Tony's clothes were too big, but it was heavy and solid and draped over him like a blanket. It smelled like Tony too, and Steve couldn't help but feel like Tony had taken that big cozy bed and wrapped Steve up to go. 

Tony opened a compartment on the back of the bike and tucked the backpack in then put on his own jacket and handed Steve one of the helmets. He helped him get it on right then put his own on, flipping the visor up. He climbed on the bike. "Hop on."

It occurred to Steve, in one, big rush, that he was about to spend an indeterminate amount of time plastered to Tony's back. "Where are we going?"

"Surprise. But it'll be nearly two hours. Maybe less with the way I drive." Tony grinned. "Is that okay?"

Steve nodded and climbed up on the bike behind Tony. It was actually pretty comfortable. He felt less exposed than he thought he would, snuggled down against Tony's back. Tony took his arms and wrapped them tightly around his waist, patting Steve's hands in place. Steve gripped on tight as Tony straightened up the bike and hit the starter. It rumbled to life between Steve's legs and he felt the vibration all the way up to the tip of his nose.

Tony kicked off and Steve flinched, hugging closer, but then they were sailing, gliding across the garage floor and out the doors that rumbled open for them. Tony hit traffic, but he clearly knew what he was doing, dodging in and out of cars as he made his way to the edge of the city. The sky was clear and bright and by the time they hit the George Washington Bridge, Steve had twisted his face to the side so he could watch the city go by.

Tony was stable and warm, blocking the wind, and the leather jacket kept Steve feeling wrapped up tight. It was exhilarating, and when they hit open highway, headed upstate, Steve whooped as Tony let the throttle really go and they kicked up speed. It wasn't long before Steve was as far out of town as he'd ever been. Short school trips to museums or parks were the only chances he'd had to travel as a kid, and the two hours flew by in the fascination of novelty. 

The roads got rougher and the houses got sparser until it was just the two of them and trees. Eventually, Tony turned up a driveway labelled "Private" but it was still almost fifteen minutes before the drive opened into a wide road and a huge, sprawling property appeared, several large, flat buildings and an expanse of fields. There was even a short runway and a helicopter pad. Tony slowed the bike then stopped just outside one of the buildings. 

Steve climbed off the back and took off his helmet, rolling out stiff shoulders. "What is this?"

Tony stretched up tall, his t-shirt riding up. "Just some property I inherited. Used to be Stark Industry stuff but they moved this operation to California and this has pretty much just been sitting here since."

"Oh, wow."

"Let me know if you think of something cool to do with it." Tony put the kickstand down and got off the bike then started walking towards the main building, but Steve's attention was caught by the way the light glinted off the trees at the edge of the driveway. He followed it along, climbing up a small hill, and found himself standing on the edge of a cliff, looking over a sprawling lake. 

The sun reflected off it brilliantly and it took Steve a moment to blink the light out of his eyes. Tony's arm curled up around his shoulders, and Steve leaned into the touch. "This is incredible."

"Wait til you see Spain."

Steve laughed. "You don't have to take me to Spain to impress me, Tony. This is the farthest from home I've ever been."

"Oh, look, a heron."

"Where?"

Tony crouched down to Steve's level and held out one arm, pointing. Steve sighted along it and found an enormous bird standing stock still in the edge of the lake, water nearly up to its feathers.

"Holy shit, that's huge."

Tony chuckled. "We need to find you a swan."

"Are there swans out here?"

"Nah, I don't think so. But keep your eyes peeled for deer."

They wandered the grounds a while longer, stretching out their legs. The area was rough but it was just so _natural._ And it wasn't exactly quiet, but it was loud in a different, easier way. "I like it here," Steve told Tony as they made their way back to the bike. "Thanks for bringing me."

"Oh, we didn't come for a nature walk," Tony said. "You're going to learn to drive Olivia."

Steve screeched to a halt, making Tony stop and turn back to him. "What?"

"You said you wanted to."

"I said it was _illegal!"_

"But there's no one here to see you, so it doesn't matter."

Steve snorted. "Laws aren't like trees falling in the woods, Tony. They still count if no one can see you."

Tony rested a hand on the bike's handlebar. "Funny. A certain favourite alpha of yours rather enjoyed telling me all about the many times you've flaunted the law."

Steve crossed his arms. "Well, it's different when it's to protect someone."

Tony cocked a hip, a smirk painting across his lips, eyes flashing with delight. "What about when it can't hurt anyone? This is my private property. We can do whatever we want."

The way he drawled through _whatever we want_ had the back of Steve's neck heating as his overactive imagination offered him several other things they could be doing, many of which still involved the bike. "Tony…"

"Hey, it's okay." Tony stepped closer. "If you really don't want to, it's alright. But if you want to try, I'll make sure you don't get hurt. And I promise you won't get in trouble."

Tony's gentleness made Steve bristle, wanting to face the challenge head-on instead of being coddled. "I can do it." He stepped closer to the bike.

"Okay, hop up."

Steve straddled the bike and nearly died when Tony tucked up behind him, Steve's hips small enough that Tony was able to share the front seat with him. Though they were pressed awfully close together. Tony's knees tucked up into the back of Steve's and it was altogether too much like spooning for Steve to focus fully on the lesson Tony was giving him.

After a few moments, though, Steve was fully absorbed by the information about the bike, and he went through all the instructions Tony gave him, working the clutch, testing the shifter, and finally playing with a few revs. Tony let him putt a few feet with him on the back, then he got off and let Steve balance the bike on his own. It was terrifying but also exhilarating and by the time he was rolling down the drive by himself, Steve's cheeks hurt from all the grinning.

His hands and legs started to ache eventually so he stopped the bike and turned it off, pulling off his helmet and pushing back his sweaty hair.

"That was amazing!" Tony helped him slide off and gave him a little shake. "You're so good already. We'll be racing in no time."

Steve barked out a laugh. "I'm not racing you, you speed demon."

"You don't fool me. I can tell you have a little speed demon in you too." When Steve didn't answer, Tony popped open the back of the bike. "Lunch?"

"I'm starving."

"Let's go up top." Tony pointed towards the roof of the warehouse then led Steve over to a metal fire escape that wound up the side. Tony walked close behind Steve as they made their way up the rattling steps, but Steve pulled away as soon as his feet hit the roof, jogging over to the edge to gaze out at the stunning view. They could see the whole lake before them, surrounded by nothing but trees and birds and blue sky. There was a little wind, up here, but all it did was pull ineffectually at Steve's hair, the thick leather of the jacket keeping him safe and warm. He turned back with a grin to find Tony sitting on a blanket he'd laid out, his arm already deep in the backpack, looking for more. Steve sunk down beside him. "This is really amazing, thank you."

"No, thank you." Tony's hand stilled. "Seriously... I don't know what I would have done these last few months without you. I know I haven't always been the best housemate, but knowing you were there, waiting… expecting me to come back…" Tony's eyes flickered on the horizon, going somewhere Steve couldn't follow. He reached out and rested a hand on Tony's knee, drawing him back. "Right." Tony shook himself and went back to the bag. "Do you want tuna or roast beef?"

Steve chose the tuna, and Tony clicked open an array of tupperware containers too, with fruit, crackers, cheese, olives, and a larger box with lemon and date squares laid out in a checkerboard pattern. 

Tony felt close and touchable, right now, so while Steve chewed his way through a strawberry, he asked him, "Did you think about bonding when you were a kid? Did you want to?"

Tony nodded slowly. "Yeah… yeah I did. Well, I don't know if _want_ is the right term. I knew I would be. My parents would have chosen someone. I wanted to put it off, when I was a teenager, because I was happy building things and dicking around and blowing stuff up and I didn't want grownup responsibilities. So I tried to just stay unnoticed but I knew in a few years my parents would have some omega I barely knew that they'd set up a few dates with so they could convince themselves it was a perfect match and then I'd be bonded. And there would be this person I was responsible for and god, that seemed so adult and out of reach back then. But then they died. And they hadn't arranged anything for me, so suddenly it was all up to me."

Tony shrugged and went on. "Obie tried to find me someone, a few times, but it was like I reacted to their deaths by being as much the opposite of that life I had known was coming for so long. I slept with anyone who'd have me, one night only, no encores. I eschewed responsibility, did whatever I wanted and refused to settle down or even out. 

"Then Afghanistan happened." Tony's voice dropped lower. "I couldn't live like that anymore." His hand came up and rubbed at his neck like he could feel the ghost of some old fear or injury. "Then I found out the board didn't trust me. They were combining the chaotic irresponsible person I was before with the trauma I went through there and they didn't like the path they saw. They thought I'd only get worse and they were about to remove me for the good of the company when you moved in."

Tony turned to Steve, eyes brimming with emotion. "I really am truly sorry for taking your choice away. I never would have done it like that if I'd known. I don't know if it's any small comfort, but it worked. They see me as settled down, now. They've stopped talking about ousting me." Tony grimaced, and Steve reached out and lay his smaller hand over Tony's.

"It isn't how I would have picked this to happen, but Tony… I am glad you selected me. Or at least, things worked out well. Probably for the best. The fantasy I had of falling in love and being swept off my feet was never going to happen. But you happened, and I've never felt safer in my entire life. So thank you, for choosing me."

Tony twisted his hand up to hold Steve's, winding their fingers together for a moment before releasing him entirely to reach for a container of hummus, clearing his throat roughly. "Did you think about the Reading Room more at all? Have any plans?"

"Oh! Yes, I think so. I mean, I have some hopes, but I don't know if we can implement them. But I've thought about it a lot."

"I've told Pepper what you've got planned and she's feeling out some options. She'll put together the best team for you and you can go from there."

"Wow, really?" 

"Yeah, I said I'd get you started."

"I know, I just. I'm not used to having an idea and then just… having it happen." Steve twisted a corner off one of the lemon squares and licked the gooey curd off his fingers. 

"No point in having all this money if we're not going to do something about it."

The _we_ settled like family down deep in Steve's gut, and he found himself unable to say much else. They finished their meal in companionable silence, then Tony led the way back down to the bike. The sun was no longer high in the sky and the long afternoon rays cut sharply through the trees and cast everything in a different light. 

Tony repacked the bike then climbed on and Steve settled his helmet on his head, zipped up his jacket, and climbed up behind him. He rested his cheek against Tony's back as the bike took off, draping his whole weight heavily against him, and watched as the countryside whipped past. 

They'd been together continually since dinner last night, and Tony hadn't seemed to want to part. Steve's heart thudded in his chest. These whole two days had really felt like an extended date: the dinner, the bike lesson, the beautiful scenery. They'd even shared a bed, though it wasn't _like that,_ it was still… romantic. 

And even if Tony didn't see it that way, Steve couldn't help but feel the romance fluttering around in his chest like a flock of butterflies. It was bizarre to think that only a few months ago, the very last thing he would have wanted was to be this close to Tony, but now all he craved was to curl around to Tony's front and settle in his arms, up against his chest, held close. He imagined Tony's face bending down to scent his hair, big hands cupping him tightly.

And it wasn't sex, it wasn't that kind of physical attraction. _That_ had blossomed as soon as he'd stopped being so afraid of Tony. No, this was something new, something softer and sweeter and deeper, somehow. This was -

He was in love with Tony.

The realization shocked Steve so much that he flinched violently, and Tony's head turned sharply back. Steve hugged him tighter, patting gently once to reassure him he was okay. 

He was in love with Tony. It was really the only thing that made the feeling in his chest feel recognized. He hadn't meant to fall for his enigmatic alpha, but somehow it happened just the same. And it wasn't a thought without pain. Tony had made it clear that while he had deep affection for Steve, he never wanted a romantic relationship with him.

Or -? Was that really true? No… it was more like he'd made it clear he didn't want a _sexual_ relationship, which wasn't the same thing at all, was it? If anyone had watched the last two days, they'd think they already _did_ have a romantic relationship. Tony didn't seem uncomfortable touching him. He smiled at him, wanted to feed him and take care of him and show him new experiences. Those were all romantic things. 

Tony was well known for being a bit… promiscuous before Afghanistan, but he'd said a few things about not being able to live like that anymore so maybe - what if -? What if he _couldn't_ have sex anymore? Or maybe it didn't appeal. He never said exactly what he went through there. So either he didn't find Steve sexually attractive, or maybe he didn't find _anyone_ sexually attractive anymore, or maybe he didn't want to have sex at all. If he didn't want to ever have sex again, it kind of made sense for him to pick an omega that he thought he could be friends with without caring if he was attracted to him or not. It explained a little bit better why he would have selected someone like Steve. 

So maybe Steve could keep quietly loving Tony, could show him he cared and have that affection returned, and they could be happy. He could be Tony's best friend, his confidant. Maybe Tony would let him share his bed sometimes, even without the threat of anaphylactic shock. Maybe. And maybe, someday, Tony would love him.

Not like the books. Not heart-stopping, wind-swept, moment-breaking love. Not like that. But soft, and easy, and comfortable was good too. Steve could live with that. He could live with never knowing what it felt like to have Tony slide the silk of the knotting wrap around his hips, never know what it was like to pull it loose again and feel Tony's touch replace the soft fabric. With all his health problems, it was probably better not to, anyway. Maybe some day, he'd feel bold enough to ask for a kiss.

He snuggled down until he was squished so tightly he could barely move and closed his eyes. Yeah. He could live with that. He could live with whatever of Tony he was allowed to have. He was used to getting by on only a little after all; this would just be another kind of making do.

Steve must have dozed off into a dopey haze, because when he opened his eyes next, the trees had turned into tall buildings and Tony was slowing down. He wiggled through traffic for the last few blocks then pulled into the garage at the tower. They went up, up, up to Tony's private garage then finally settled the bike in its spot. Steve was unwilling to give up his comfortable position, and he almost whimpered when Tony managed to slip off the bike in front of him. But Tony caught his shoulder and helped him ease his helmet off. "Need a lift to bed?"

Steve rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. "No, I'm not that tired yet. I'm awake now." He hopped off the bike, groaning at the way his muscles protested. He stretched out his legs, twisting his ankles back and forth while Tony unloaded the picnic bag, then followed him up to the kitchen. 

It occurred to Steve for the first time, while watching him take containers out of the picnic bag and toss them in the sink, that Tony had a bit of a thing about feeding him. Steve had spent so much energy trying to feed Tony in the beginning of all this, and meanwhile Tony was very much wanting to feed him. It was a thing for some alphas, and Steve couldn't help wondering if Tony's father had been a feeder too. Maybe he was just emulating the behaviour he knew. Because - and Steve felt this with all due affection - Tony's alpha instincts didn't seem particularly bang on, otherwise. Though, he supposed, it must be hard when your omega was off the registry and not someone you had chosen. There was still the hope there, though, that Tony showing he was trying - with the bike and the food and even the books at the library - meant that they'd be able to figure this thing out, come up with a routine and a lifestyle that let Steve love him dearly without it being too painful, and let Tony be happy sharing his space with an omega that he hadn't wanted. They could make it work.

"Just got confirmation of the meeting with the director of Omega Reads on Thursday and her omega. They're really excited to meet you." Tony had found another baggie of grapes at the bottom of the picnic basket and was popping them in his mouth two at a time.

"Oh. Wow. Really?"

"Yeah. I think we can work together to launch your Reading Rooms project."

Tony offered Steve the grapes, and he took one. "That's pretty surreal. I mean, it was just something I said, and now…"

Tony smiled. "Look, I know you think I'm a rich asshole, but sometimes money gets good things done too."

"I don't think you're a rich asshole." Steve frowned at him. "Stop that. I know you do a lot of good things with your money. But six months ago, if I had extra money, the best I could do with it was drop a few dollars in the cup of a homeless omega outside the grocery store. Now… now I can launch an entire charity just by saying I want to. It's an adjustment."

Tony set the grapes down and something dark flashed across his face. "Don't forget about the omega outside the grocery store, though," he said quietly. "I did that for a long time. I thought funding a few charitable startups and sitting on the board in name only for some foundations counteracted anything else I did in my life. I let it be part of a checklist. But sometimes it's the single life you change that matters."

Steve was quiet for a long time, but when Tony didn't speak again, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around his wrist and gave a gentle squeeze. "You're trying to change things, have SI do something more worthwhile than make weapons."

Tony huffed out a laugh. "I wish that mattered."

"It does. It does matter. Even if in the grand scheme of things, someone else is going to come in and fill your place, it matters to show people that it's worth trying to do the right thing, even if it hurts, even if it might not work. That matters."

Tony's smile started to curve back into place.

"For what it's worth, I'm proud of you," Steve mumbled, cheeks heating.

"That's worth a lot."

"Beep."

Steve and Tony both looked down to where Joshua had gently bumped against Tony's ankle and was now puttering off in the opposite direction.

"Um," Tony said.

Steve cleared his throat. "Oh."

"Isn't that supposed to be in the library?"

Steve could feel his cheeks heating. "I let him out?"

"You let _him_ out? You freed the vacuum cleaner."

"Yes?"

_"Why?"_

"I think… he was bored."

"You think the vacuum cleaner was bored. Are those stickers?"

"He's not just a vacuum cleaner! He's a robot. Like JARVIS. And DUM-E. JARVIS has feelings." Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

"JARVIS does not have feelings. He's programmed to _sound_ like he has feelings."

"Yeah, well, Joshua is designed to _look_ like he has feelings so that's on you not me."

Tony stared at Steve for several beats then burst out laughing. He leaned back against the counter to catch himself, and Steve couldn't but smile too. He was so beautiful when he laughed for real, so different from the laughs he gave on TV or on the phone. "You named it," Tony said, when he finally caught his breath again. "You named the vacuum cleaner."

"Um. Yes. Well, I didn't know what his name was."

"He's never had one before. Joshua?"

"Yeah."

"What does it stand for?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you just name him Joshua for no reason?"

Steve blinked. "Do you normally need a reason for picking something's name?"

"Let's see…" Tony tapped a finger against his lips which had the unfortunate side effect of bringing Steve's attention down to his mouth and it made it incredibly difficult to focus on anything else. "He's controlled by J, so JARVIS Operated… Sanitary… House… uhh. Something. Automaton. Hmm."

Steve snorted out a laugh. "You can't backfill my name with an acronym!"

"My vacuum. I can do what I want."

"Considering how much time I spend in the library and how much time you don't spend in the library, I think you've forfeited your rights to him to me. Also, you didn't notice he was bored."

Something unreadable shifted in Tony's expression and the banter stopped. "You spend a lot of time in the library?" he asked softly.

"Oh. Yes. Is that okay? There wasn't a lock and JARVIS didn't say -"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course! No, it's… It was my mom's. The books. I moved them here and put it all the way it was in my house growing up and then… then I didn't touch it."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you're using it."

"I mostly just read there." Steve twisted his fingers together in front of him. "I haven't touched the books, just brought my own."

"Well, you should. If you want to, of course. But it'd be nice to know someone was using it, reading them. Appreciating them. I'd like that."

"Okay. Thank you. I can put Joshua back up there, I didn't think -"

"No. No, it's okay. He was probably bored." Tony winked then smiled down at the bot, which was currently trying to fit under the fridge. Then his expression slowly morphed into something very far away. A moment later, Tony shook himself, as if coming out of a haze, and cleared his throat. "Well. I should catch up on work. I'll let JARVIS know to change JOSHUA's name in the registry. And to think of something for the U."

Steve's lips twitched up. "Okay. Thank you. Oh! And thank you for the driving lesson."

"Yeah." Tony's hand landed on Steve's shoulder as he stepped by, and he squeezed gently. "Thanks for not dying."

Right. _Ouch._ That stung. Of course for Tony, the riding lesson had just been an apology for the scallop scare, a little comfort for poor, stressed Steve. So it hurt, a bit, to be reminded that Tony was just trying to be kind, not in love with him. But kind was still better than resentful, was still better than the disinterest he'd been facing for so long. So Steve straightened up, braced himself, and accepted that kind was the best he was ever going to get, and he was going to be glad to have it. 

That night, lying in his bed in the dark, Steve thought of something. "Hey, JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd like to get a bonding ring for Tony. I know he might not wear it, but I want to do it anyway."

"Excellent, sir. Would you like me to make an appointment for you at the jewler?"

"Actually… I was thinking I'd like to try designing it myself. If that's something you can help with."

"Absolutely. I shall open a project folder for you on the server, sir."

"Okay, good." Steve fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**

Steve focused on painting for the next few days, letting him sink into the rhythmic strokes of brush on canvas and set his anxieties aside for a while. He finished the last lesson in his online course on perspective and every practice activity still made him think of Tony. At first, it had felt like coming to live at the tower meant having to constantly adjust his own perspective to try and see the world out of Tony's eyes, or at least out of the eyes that were always watching Tony. He was trying to be someone who seemed like they suited Tony so everyone would believe they had reason to be together, so Tony would feel like he had a reason to keep Steve.

But now it was… now it was trying to make one painting with both perspectives: two-point. One dot on the horizon for him, one dot for Tony. And when you added light and colour and shape and landscape and shadow, they stopped being black holes and started being… epicenters. Maybe their two points weren't great, dark maws, sucking everything in to disappear, maybe they were starting points, and maybe there were places they could meet in the middle.

After all, they both shared a horizon.

On Thursday, he put on nice clothes and tried to flatten out his crazy hair and even braved his contact lenses which he'd been avoiding most of the time. It took almost half an hour to get them in, but when he finally blinked them in place and the world sharpened into crisp lines and fine details, he grinned at himself in the mirror. Small triumphs were triumphs nonetheless and that gave him the confidence he needed to get through his meeting. 

It wasn't as stressful as he'd expected it to be, in the end. 

They had the meeting up in the penthouse with Tony, his new PA, and their guests. The CEO of Omega Reads was a warm, round, soft-spoke alpha, but her position was really in name only, and after introductions and handshakes, she sat in the corner with a notebook and let her omega talk. Her omega was tall and funny, with a snappy wit and long arms that he spread broadly as he talked. He never sat, pacing around the room, instead, and he _loved_ Steve's idea. He and Steve talked well over the two hours allotted for the meeting, and when they were finally forced to be done by the advancing clock, everyone was smiling.

"We're hosting a dinner next week," Patrick, the omega, said. "It's sort of elite and poshy, but it opens wallets, not just for money, but for business cards. Lots of connections. I'd like you both to come, if you can. We'll do some introductions and I'll make mention of the new Reading Room initiative and how excited we are to be involved. There's some keywords I can drop with some key people and someone in the inner circle will pick you up to be a beneficiary on their next silent auction or whatever. I know you've started out well funded, but it's about the publicity, not the money." He turned to Tony. "Can you mention it in connection with SI, somehow?"

Tony nodded. "Supposed to have a press conference on Monday. Steve, if you'll come with me, I know everyone desperately wants to hear from you, and then we can bring up the program initiative."

"Okay."

Patrick put out his hand and Steve took it. "Excited to work together. And not just cause you're loaded." He winked and Steve laughed.

"Me too."

Steve was full of excited energy the rest of the day, and it wasn't until the next morning that he fully processed what the press conference would mean. He'd have to stand in front of all those people and answer questions, have his picture taken. It was miraculous, honestly, how well Tony had managed to protect him from that so far, and he had no doubt that it involved Happy and his team of security professionals.

Now that he thought of it, Steve wondered if a body guard had been following him every time he went to the grocery store in those early days. He supposed not, since Iron Man had needed to save him that one time in the alley. 

Thoughts of Iron Man inspired him to go back to painting and he did his best to art away his stress. The next day, he had a shift at the library, and considering that he was going to be on TV the following week, he decided it was time to come clean.

So he told everyone, about his bonding, about Tony. He told them he was nervous about it because he didn't want to lose his job or for the others to treat him differently, but he was happy and he and Tony cared deeply for each other. It didn't even feel like a lie, now. He loved Tony, and Tony cared for him - that he did believe. 

He could tell that Connie and Dot wondered about the registry and if that was how they'd met, but he kept his lips sealed on that front. He liked his coworkers, but they'd never been particularly close and he couldn't trust that something misspoken or inadvertently revealed wouldn't somehow make it back to the press. To the public, he and Tony had chosen each other, were happy.

In love.

Well, it was half true now at least, easier to fake, perhaps, but infinitely more painful. Still, he was able to take the library team's congratulations with grace, and pivoted to talking about the Reading Room program as quickly as he could to pull the attention off his love life.

On Monday, Steve put on his nicest slacks and a dark blue cashmere sweater Elaine had picked for him. For the first time, he plucked his SI security badge off the lampshade by his bed and clipped it to the hem of his sweater. Tony was already waiting by the elevator and he smiled when Steve appeared. 

"You look great."

"Thank you." Steve straightened his sweater.

"Nervous?"

"Yes."

"Don't be. I've got you." Tony curled his arm around Steve's back and guided him into the elevator. He hit the button for the fiftieth floor. 

"Can I see your office after?"

Tony laughed. "You want to?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then. Whatever you like. I was going to take you out to lunch but we can order up to my office instead, if you want."

Steve nodded just as the doors sprung open. Going out to lunch sounded nice but after what they were about to do, he had a feeling he wasn't going to want to be around a lot of people. 

Tony led Steve down a hallway and into a small room where Pepper was waiting. "Hi, Steve, how are you?" she asked kindly.

"I'm well, thank you. How are you?" Steve hadn't seen her since the charity gala, and he wondered if she knew about his heat right after.

"Fine, thank you. Are you ready for this? You sure you want to go out there?"

Steve nodded. "I don't mind. As long as I don't have to say much."

"No, of course not. Just leave the talking to Tony. If they insist, and you want to, just say something simple like, 'Bonded life is treating me very well and we appreciate everyone respecting our privacy.'"

"Have they respected our privacy?" Steve asked. JARVIS had recommended he avoid reading the news about either of them.

"Not in the slightest!" Pepper said brightly. "The tabs are full of everything from you not existing to you being pregnant with triplets, but in PR we thank everyone for what we want them to do, instead of asking them to do it. Something about guilt. Tony, your tie is crooked."

Pepper reached out to adjust Tony's tie - something Steve was sure she'd done a thousand times - but even though she was an alpha, something hot and possessive reared up in Steve's chest. He wanted to bat her hand away and do it himself. _Mine,_ he thought, and he was half a step closer to Tony before he realized what he was doing and shoved his hands in his pockets instead. 

"Okay!" Pepper clapped her hands together then disappeared through the door at the other end of the room.

Tony turned to Steve. "You okay?"

"Yup." Steve tried to sound more confident than he felt. He didn't want Tony worrying about him when he needed to focus on saying the right things to the press. 

But Tony's expression suggested he didn't quite believe Steve. He took his hand, winding his large, warm fingers in between Steve's smaller ones, and Steve started to feel a little closer to okay than he had before. Tony led them up to the door and waited until he heard Pepper say some cue, and then he opened the door and walked through, Steve held close against his side. 

The room was filled with reporters and Steve was instantly blinded by camera flashes and deafened by a thousand questions being lobbed at them. He snuggled up even closer to Tony, resisting the urge to just hide his face in his shirt completely, but the crowd seemed to like that even more, the flashes getting faster, and Steve caught his name several times. 

Tony settled behind the podium, Steve at his side, and held up a hand. The clamouring voices quieted, but the camera flashes didn't lessen. "Thank you all for your patience," Tony said, and Steve wondered if that was one of those things you thanked people for instead of asking. "I'm sure you can understand that Steve and I were grateful for privacy during the new stages of our bond. You might have caught a glimpse of us at the Lights Up Gala, but this is our first press conference. We've had a wonderful first three months of our new bond, Steve is settling in nicely upstairs, and we're both very happy. Questions? Rich?"

"Any little Starks in the plans?"

Steve stiffened, but Tony only chuckled. "No plans yet, Rich, but we'll make sure all you guys are Skyped in for any family planning conversations."

The room laughed, and Tony pointed at another reporter. "What's it like being bonded to Tony Stark, Steve?"

Steve chewed his bottom lip. He wanted to turn to Tony to answer, but he also didn't want all the articles to be about how he couldn't speak for himself. He leaned in towards the mic, and Tony made space for him, his hand a comforting weight on Steve's back. "It's been very nice. Tony is kind and very generous. And he's good to me." Steve knew he stuttered around the words, but he was proud of himself for getting them out.

Tony beamed down at him. Questions went on, eventually turning towards SI, and Steve somewhat tuned them out, until a reporter stood up and asked, "Steve, how can you trust Tony with the reputation he has? Aren't you worried about him stepping out on you?"

Steve just blinked at the reporter, completely at a loss. How could they ask something so personal? "What?" he said, but Tony hooked an arm around Steve's shoulders and drew him in tight. Steve looked up and found Tony's eyes blazing.

"It's really not -" Tony started, but Steve could hear the uncertainty in his voice and anger flared up within him. 

He pressed a hand to Tony's chest to quiet him and glared at the reporter. "I trust Tony. With our bond, with my life. That's it," he snapped. "Don't any of you have any interesting questions?"

Tony burst out laughing and hugged Steve to his chest. 

"Got a fiesty one, there, Stark," another reporter called, and Tony grinned.

"Tell us something interesting about you then, Steve."

Steve had the distinct impression he was taking this press conference off the rails and he finally gave into the need to look to Tony for guidance. Tony hugged him tighter and leaned into the mic. "He's an incredible artist. He's almost certainly smarter than me. He named my vacuum cleaner." Tony looked over at Steve. "He has excellent taste in doughnuts. Fabulous cook. Excellent with numbers. And he's so incredibly giving, and generous, and thoughtful, and I know you're all going to be amazed by the projects he has in the works. I know I am."

Steve stared up at him. How had Tony noticed all those things?

"It's pretty amazing to see you in love, Tony," a reporter near the front said with a smirk. She tossed her long hair back. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Tony went stiff next to Steve, and he could feel his breathing tighten and shift with the awkwardness. Steve wanted to say, _it's okay, you can lie and say you love me,_ but he couldn't. Instead he gripped a handful of Tony's shirt and squeezed.

"Never thought I'd see the day, either," Tony said softly. "Just took the right person, I guess, huh?" He sounded a bit breathless, and Steve leaned all his weight against him. Tony pivoted elegantly to the Reading Room project and the next several questions were about that.

Then the beta in the front row put her hand up again. "What about Iron Man, Mr. Stark?"

Tony tensed again. "What about Iron Man?"

"Do you feel any responsibility for the unregulated, uncontrolled, vigilante justice that anonymous people like him have been doling out since you left the weapons business?"

Tony tensed beside Steve and Steve felt their old argument welling up again. "I don't think there's anyone else quite like Iron Man," Tony said, and there was a small chuckle from the crowd, but no one interrupted with another question. "Um. Well, we can hardly - I mean. It's not for me to -"

Steve leaned forward until he was right in front of the microphone. "Iron Man is trying to help and protect people, and he has nothing to do with Stark Industries or my new charity, which is what we're here to talk about."

The reporters started yelling again but Tony held up a hand. "That's all for now, thanks everyone." He guided Steve in front of him and used a hand on his back to lead him back out the door and into the small ante-room they'd started in. 

Steve opened his mouth to ask Tony if that was a normal press conference but Tony wouldn't look at him, pulling his phone out right away and typing at the screen. Pepper came in a moment later and she and Tony fell into rapid conversation. Steve drifted away to the corner and curled into a chair there. It was several minutes before Pepper left them alone. "So - uh - a couple things have come up," Tony said.

Steve nodded.

"Could we do lunch and my office another day? Sorry, it's just… madness." Tony wouldn't meet Steve's eyes. 

"Yeah, of course, Tony. It's fine." Steve bit his tongue before he asked what he'd done wrong. He shouldn't have pushed, obviously, shouldn't have snapped at the reporters and said more than what Pepper told him to say. "It's okay, I'll just -" He pushed up out of the chair and made for the door. The elevator was just down the hall.

But Tony stopped him. "Whoa, wait, wait." He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "I don't - what if we grab something from the mess here and I can show you my office and then if you don't want to stay there you can take your lunch upstairs? I just - you were fucking incredible out there, you know that, right? They love you."

Hearing _love_ roll off Tony's lips again made Steve's heart stutter painfully. "Thank you."

"Seriously. It was great. We should see if they have cake." He led the way presumably towards the mess and Steve jogged to catch up. 

"Tony, wait!" Steve giggled, catching Tony's sleeve to slow him down, and he did, falling into rhythm next to Steve. "I don't need cake."

"You should always have cake. Every day. I'm going to hire you a special cake chef whose only job is to follow you around and give you cake whenever you want it." Tony sounded like himself again and Steve burst out with delighted laughter.

"I definitely don't need that."

But it turned out the mess _did_ have cake, and Tony made sure Steve took a small slice of each flavour and they went up to Tony's office together. Tony really did have to work, but Steve settled himself in a chair with a tablet and ate his cake, and practiced digital art while Tony typed and talked on the phone and argued with JARVIS and Pepper. 

_It's pretty amazing to see you in love,_ the reporter had said. Steve couldn't get her words out of his head. It would be pretty amazing to see Tony in love, but if he ever did, it wouldn't be with him.

But Tony had promised to be faithful, and he cared about Steve, it was impossible to convince himself otherwise, so maybe… maybe Steve could pretend. Maybe Steve could be as duped as those reporters and tell himself that Tony loved him. Sure, he didn't kiss him or touch him or _want_ him but that was alright. Steve could live without all of that. In fact, the more he fell in love with his alpha, the more none of that other stuff mattered. It was never a kiss or a knot or a dip on the dance floor that Steve had mooned for, reading his novels all those years, it was the feeling: the passion, the affection. And there were probably just enough small scraps of that from Tony that he could get by.

He'd be okay. He looked up from his tablet and across the room to where Tony was leaning one elbow on his desk, the end of a pen in his mouth, and his face screwed up with bewildered consternation as he stared at the screen.

Steve smiled back down at the sketch on his tablet. It was of Tony, of course. 

Yeah. He'd get by. And maybe, one day, when they'd been together a long, long time, he'd really believe it when the reporter said Tony looked like he was in love.

Steve eventually went back up to the penthouse, but when Tony was done for the day, he sought him out. They watched a movie together, side by side on the couch, and it felt, maybe for the first time, like they had this whole life together thing figured out. Steve could just love him, quietly, for the rest of his life, and maybe it would be okay, not having more.

When the movie was over, Steve stood to go up to bed, yawning and stretching. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Tony hesitated like he was waiting for something, then he snapped his fingers. "Oh, wait. I got you something yesterday and I forgot to give it to you."

Steve waited while Tony rummaged around in a plastic bag by the bar. Eventually, he came up with a tall can which he handed to Steve. Steve rolled it around to read the label. Art Fixative.

"I noticed you were playing with those chalk pastel things a lot but they smudged in the sketchbook. So I asked a friend of mine if there was anything that could be done, and she said this stuff. So I stopped by the art store on the way home from the bank."

Steve stared at the can in his hands. It was nothing, really. The price tag was still on it - $20 - but that was nothing in the face of Tony proving just how much he noticed, just how well he knew Steve. "You -" Steve couldn't form it into a sentence. He hadn't even known something like this existed. And Tony had seen he was having a problem and asked a friend and went all the way to the store and - Steve's eyes welled with tears.

"Are you okay? Is it the wrong thing? I can take it back."

"Huh? Oh, no. No." Steve clutched the can to his chest like someone had tried to take it from him. "This is - this is really great, Tony, thanks. Just what I need. I didn't know this was a thing..."

"Okay, good." Tony still sounded uncertain, so Steve shot him as convincing a smile as he could manage, and Tony nodded to himself like he'd had a job well done.

Steve stood there for too long, holding the spray can. Then he grabbed his stuff and hustled upstairs where he immediately dialled Bucky's number.

"Hey."

"I'm going crazy, Buck."

"What?"

"I'm going _crazy._ I thought I had this thing all sorted, but every time I accept how things are going to be he just _does something._ And I don't know what to do about that! He bought me art fixative! What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?!"

"Uhh, fix art things?"

"Oh god, Bucky, I'm going crazy. I'm just going to completely lose my shit one of these days and either kiss him or punch him, and he's going to be really mad either way."

"Stevie? Pal?"

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Tony."

"Yes, I gathered that much."

"I'm in love with him," Steve breathed.

"Oh. Finally figured that out, have you?"

Steve growled. "Yes! Okay. So, fuck, it took me a bit, but it wasn't like - it wasn't a normal process, okay? Anyway. Yes. I'm in love with him and he doesn't want me and it fucking _sucks._ And I don't know what to do."

There was the sound of a package rustling through the phone. "Tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"Tell him that you want him to bend you over the ottoman and knot you to within an inch of your life."

"Bucky!" Steve was deeply, eternally grateful that Tony wasn't monitoring his phone calls, but JARVIS was still listening, technically.

"Well, don't you?"

"Yeah, but that's not what this is about."

Bucky spoke around a mouthful of something crunchy. "Look, what I'm saying is that you tell him. Whatever you're feeling, you just tell him that. Tell him you love him - that's always a nice thing to hear, and he's your alpha so of course that's always good. Then if there's something else you want, tell him that too. You don't have to be all or nothing about it, Stevie. Tell him you love him and I'll bet my entire 1994 Archie comic collection that he says it back. The rest of the stuff is just details."

"You really think I should tell him?"

"Course. You think he's going to be mad that his omega loves him? You guys are bonded."

"Yeah, but…" But Steve didn't really have an argument against that. At worst, Tony might be embarrassed because he couldn't say it back, but Steve would be okay with that. He just wanted Tony to know he cared; that was what mattered the most. "Okay."

"Maybe cook him something nice. Thank him for keeping you in inhalers, cause god, Steve, I gotta say, it's nice hearing you take deep breaths for once."

"Oh. Yeah." Steve's eyes prickled. "Feels nice too. I am grateful. I was mad for a long time, but I _am_ grateful."

"So tell him that. He's not going to be angry that he makes you happy, you know?"

Steve thought about all the times Tony had asked Steve if he was happy, how to make him happy, what he needed to be happy. "Okay, I will."

"Good."

Steve let out a long, slow breath and sat down hard on the end of his bed. "What about you? How's life?"

"Sam's coming home," Bucky said stiffly.

"What? Really?"

"Yeah… I'm still not sure why, but it honestly sounds like he tore a muscle and instead of bothering to see him through his recovery, they gave him an honorable discharge. So he gets to come home and do his physio here. I'm still kind of… reeling."

"It's good, though, right? You're happy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm happy. As long as he really is okay. I hope he - uh -"

"Buck…"

"I hope he still wants to see me."

"He will. Of course, he will."

"I dunno. Things are different back home. But we'll see. I have his number."

"That's good." Bucky sounded kind of down so Steve added, "You should come over for dinner soon."

"I'm not coming over until you grab that alpha of yours by his three thousand dollar tie and tell him you want him. I can't sit there stewing in your sexual tension. It gives me hives."

Steve huffed petulantly. "Okay, I get it! I will tell him! I'll tell him tomorrow night."

"You'd better."

He and Bucky chatted for another hour or so then Steve hung up and went online to look up recipes for the next night until his eyes were heavy and aching. 

The next morning, he trotted downstairs, working his way through a yogurt cup, and tapped on the door to the workshop which sprung open as soon as he touched it.

"Hey, Steve," Tony said distractedly, attention fixed on a tiny circuit board he held in his hands, tongue caught between his teeth.

"Hey. I'm not staying. I just had a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Can I cook for you tonight? It's okay if you're busy, but I want to thank you for the driving lesson."

Tony looked up from his work, eyes softening. "You don't have to thank me."

"I know. But I want to. Let me cook for you, Tony. I promise I'm a good cook."

Tony chuckled. "Okay."

"Tonight is okay?"

"Yup. Tonight is perfect."

"Okay! I'll see you at seven. I'm going to paint. Have a good day."

"Bye, hon- Steve." Tony fumbled his words, laughed to himself then went back to his work, and Steve slipped out.

Steve bounced back up the stairs, eager to get to the store and start preparing. He focused on the meal, on how good it would feel to make Tony feel happy and well-fed, and completely ignored the other purpose of the evening, because if he thought about that too much, he'd lose his mind.

Needing the exercise and wanting to pick things out himself, anyway, Steve got his backpack and a rolling trolley he bought a few weeks ago and headed out for the grocery store. He knew he'd never be able to do the fancy food that Tony's chefs could do so he wasn't even going to bother trying. He could make a mean macaroni and cheese so that was what he'd do. Keep it simple, and keep it him. Tony could get scallops and caviar and champagne at any fancy event, but he could only get Steve at home.

At least, Steve hoped it would feel that way, special somehow.

He bought good cheese, elbow macaroni, cream, and some fresh peas for the side. With his trolley loaded up, Steve trundled back to the tower. It was too early to start dinner, so Steve packed the fridge then went upstairs and tried painting. There was no point in attempting anything other than Tony, so Steve took a fresh canvas and sketched out the warm, brown eyes that occupied his thoughts most of the time when he closed his eyes these days. 

He barely bothered with a sketch before he was layering on colour, trying to capture the swoop of Tony's hair, the slight smirk he always seemed to wear whenever he was looking Steve's way, and those eyes.

Steve sighed at the painting. God, he had it so bad. There were forgotten, half-finished paintings dotted around the room, landscapes, Iron Man, fruit studies, but all Steve had painted lately was Tony, over and over. If his alpha walked in now, he wouldn't need to do a fancy speech at dinner, it would be completely obvious. 

Around five-thirty, Steve went down and washed up then started prepping. It was more time than he needed, but he worked slowly, too antsy to wait any longer.

_Tony… I just want to tell you something. And it's not a big deal - if you don't feel the same way -_

No, that wasn't right. Steve took out the grater and started rubbing the cheese block over it. 

_Tony, I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me, and I know things haven't always been easy for us, but over the last week or so I've really been thinking -_

Ugh. Too rambly. Steve started a pot of water boiling. He should probably just say it. 

"I love you."

"I'm not sure the macaroni feels the same way, sir," JARVIS drawled.

"Nonsense," Steve shot back. "I'm very lovable."

"Indeed, you are."

"I'm -" Steve cleared his throat. "I'm going to tell Tony how I feel."

"I do believe honesty is nearly always a good policy, sir."

"While I'd normally agree with you, this could be utterly humiliating for me."

"Well, I certainly hope it is not, sir. I'm rather fond of you."

"Thank you, JARVIS."

Steve tried several other approaches in his head, while he made the cheese sauce and boiled the pasta, but nothing sounded quite right. Perhaps it would just come to him in the face of Tony. Then again, maybe he'd just blurt out something horrifically embarrassing like he normally did around Tony and then Tony could at least be confident his omega hadn't been replaced by some doppelganger.

When the mac and cheese was in the oven, Steve fretted his way around the apartment, wishing there was something he could clean, but Tony's hired team did too good of a job. A familiar hum drew him to the formal dining room and he found Joshua working his way around the carpet. Steve followed him until the oven timer went off, trying out a dozen different ways to confess his feelings to Tony on the little bot. 

"This is ridiculous," he grumbled, as he made his way back to the kitchen. "Just say, Tony, I love you, and I know our bonding isn't traditional, but if you'd like it to be more like that, in any way at all, some day, any day, I'd love that. But mostly, I just wanted you to know I love you." Steve nodded. "That's good."

He pulled the warm dish out of the oven and glanced at the clock. Five minutes until Tony would be up. JARVIS would make sure he wouldn't forget. Steve thought back to waking up in Tony's bed. It would be so nice to get to do that again, without fear of anaphylaxis hanging over his head. There was every chance that Tony wouldn't be interested in sex with him, and that was fine. For all that Steve loved those moments in his novels, it was the other things he wanted now, now that he knew what life with a partner could really be like. He wanted those mornings, he wanted to eat together, cuddle on the couch, share kisses. He wanted to be able to lean against Tony for support or when he was tired. He wanted more motorcycle lessons, and when Tony got growly around other alphas, Steve wanted to know it wasn't just a show. That Tony really was proud that Steve was his and he was Steve's.

_Mostly, I just wanted you to know I love you._

Steve finished boiling the fresh peas and poured them into a bowl then set the table, lighting two candles - because if Tony could do it for their scallop dinner without it being awkward, then so could Steve. Then he put a pan lid over the food to keep it warm and waited, perched on the edge of his seat. 

Three minutes past seven. Maybe Tony was stuck on a conference call.

Seven minutes past.

At twelve past, Steve asked JARVIS, "Is Tony on his way?"

JARVIS was quiet for a long time. "Mr. Stark is… held up. He'll arrive as soon as possible."

"Oh, ok." Steve turned the oven on low and put the casserole dish back in it to keep it warm.

At twenty-three minutes past, Steve was starting to get frustrated. Tony had known about dinner all day. Surely he wouldn't have started something time sensitive so close to their date? Maybe he didn't care though. Maybe he figured Steve would just eat without him.

Maybe Steve should.

But he wasn't feeling very hungry anymore. He got his sketchbook from the living room and curled up on a dining room chair, poking idly at a few sketches.

But by eight-fifteen, there was no hope. The mac and cheese was gluey, the peas were cold, and Tony wasn't coming.

"JARVIS?"

"I'm sorry, sir. He simply isn't available. That's all I can say."

"Okay. Fine." Tears prickling the backs of his eyes, Steve started scooping the ruined casserole into tupperware containers. It was still edible and he wasn't about to let it go to waste, but he definitely wouldn't be eating anything tonight. 

He'd talk to Tony tomorrow, find out what happened. For now, he was too disappointed. What if… what if JARVIS had told Tony what Steve was planning and it was a conversation he didn't want to have? What if after everything, he was going to go back to ignoring Steve?

"Sir?" JARVIS cut through Steve's thoughts, sounding unusually concerned. "You are needed _immediately_ in the workshop."

Steve dropped his spoon next to the sink and ran.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve slipped on the stairs, but he grabbed the rail and half slid down the rest of them. The door to the workshop was already open for him and he skidded inside. He'd never heard JARVIS sound like that, desperate and _scared._

"Tony?!"

A small grunt drew his attention, and Steve ran around a half-built car to find Tony sprawled on the floor, face pale and shiny with a sheen of sweat, gasping for breath.

Steve's first thought was _inhaler,_ but Tony didn't have asthma, as far as he knew, and then he noticed there was a hole cut out of the middle of Tony's tank top and in the centre of his chest was.

Another hole.

Steve's heart stopped.

There was a metal sleeve that created a cavity right in the middle of Tony's chest and it had to be a hologram or - or - _something_ but there were also wires hanging from it and hanging from the wires was some kind of glowing disc and Tony couldn't breathe and Steve didn't know what to do to fix it.

"JARVIS! What do I do?"

"On the back of the reactor - the back of the glowing item hanging from Mr. Stark's chest, there are three wires, one should appear disconnected. Press the end with the loose wire to the bright metal screw that forms a triangle with the other connectors. Do not touch the exposed part of the wire with your finger. Hold it steady and that should restart Mr. Stark's heart."

_"Restart?_ What the fuck, oh my god." But Steve scrambled to comply. He found the wire and the screw and touched them together. There was a spark and Tony twitched and groaned, his breathing already starting to even out. "Do I keep it there?"

"Yes. I am running scans. Please wait."

"Okay." Tears were running over Steve's cheeks but he couldn't brush them away because he had to keep his hands exactly where they were. If he moved them, Tony could die. So he didn't move. JARVIS was quiet for a few moments, and then he said, "You can let go now. Mr. Stark should regain consciousness any second."

Exactly five seconds later, Tony's eyes fluttered but didn't open. "Ouch," he whispered, voice pack-a-day rough.

"Tony? Tony are you okay?"

"Steve?" Tony's eyes did open then. "Shit. JARVIS -"

"You were tachycardic, sir, and then fell unconscious. I had no choice."

He growled. "Fuck."

"Tony… Tony what's going on? What is… that?" Steve stared at the gaping hole in Tony's chest, starting to shake.

"Steve, honey. I'm really, really sorry. And you should be really, really mad at me and I know you will be and I one hundred percent deserve it. And I'm going to do a lot of groveling later, I promise. But right now I kind of need your help or I might a little bit die. Can you - can we do that?"

Steve nodded violently, not trusting his own voice. A tear rolled over his cheek and dripped off his chin.

"Okay. Long story short, this thing here is keep me alive." Tony touched a finger to the blue cylinder that Steve was still cupping gently with one hand. "I was trying to upgrade it, make it better, but I ran into a little trouble in that my hands are too big. But oh! Look at that. You have lovely, tiny, perfect hands." Tony curled his fingers around Steve's for a moment then released them. "Inside here -" Tony pointed to the hole in his chest "- there's a copper wire. I need you to reach in and pull it out."

"You want me to reach inside your chest and pull out a wire."

"Yes."

Steve barked out an unsteady laugh. "Okay, just, you know, making sure. Shouldn't you… call a doctor? A - A - Anyone?"

"No, Steve, please? It has to be you. I can't - please?"

"Okay. Okay." Steve swallowed heavily. Steve helped Tony slide back until he could lean against the workbench. He flexed his fingers then slid them inside the metal tube, and even his tiny hands were a tight fit so he couldn't imagine how Tony ever thought he'd manage on his own. Steve felt around, trying to ignore that it was goopy down there, and found the end of a wire. "Is it supposed to be this wet?" He choked out when his fingers slipped trying to grab the wire.

"It's inorganic, plasmic discharge from the device, not from my body."

Steve curled his nose. It smelled awful. "That's not really a comfort. Tony, there's a giant hole in your chest full of goop. I don't think that where the goop came from is really the fundamental concern here." Steve was starting to feel short of breath, but he had to stay focused and give Tony what he needed so he took long, slow breaths and focused on what he had to do. He pulled the wire up and the end came up out of the hole. "Oh god."

"Good job. Good job, you've got this. Pull carefully."

Steve gave a little tug but suddenly the tension released and a large magnet wrapped in wire popped free.

"Oops!" Tony said, far too brightly.

"Was I not supposed to do that?!" Steve started to panic.

"No, no, it's okay. We just need to - here." Tony rummaged around in a pile of stuff next to him and came up with a new device that looked like the one that was still attached to Tony's chest. He grabbed that and pulled it loose, the wires snapping, and Steve squeaked. "It's okay. We're okay." Tony handed the new device to Steve. "Just - ah - plug that." Tony took a deep breath. "Plug that inside to the baseplate."

"Okay. Okay." Steve took the plug end and found its outlet at the bottom. He clicked it into place and Tony sighed heavily, like he'd suddenly been relieved of horrible pain. 

"Thank you." Tony's hand closed over Steve's as he twisted the device into the hole, sealing it off. He pushed himself up so he was sitting properly. He peeled his shredded tank top off and wiped his brow with it. "Thank you."

Steve fell back on his ass, staring down at his hands. Tony tossed him the ruined shirt and he wiped his fingers off. "Tony…"

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. I - _shit."_ Tony's voice breaking broke Steve's heart.

"Let's - let's go sit somewhere." Steve pushed himself to his feet but stumbled, head spinning, and Tony's arm curled around his waist. Together they made their way to Tony's couch and Tony wrapped a blanket around both of them. "Tell me - Just tell me."

Tony took a steadying breath. "So Afghanistan… when I said I was hurt, this is what I meant. There was an explosion and the shrapnel went into my heart. I underwent emergency surgery, but they couldn't get the shrapnel out of my heart so instead they installed a magnet, a system which I later improved on by adding the arc reactor." Tony tapped a finger against the glass cover. "It keeps me alive, keeps my heart beating."

"You've had that all this time?"

Tony nodded.

"You didn't tell me."

Tony shook his head, face falling. "I… I didn't tell anyone. Obie knows and he's been trying to get me to use the tech to develop a new line of Stark weapons but…" Tony stared at Steve for a long, quiet moment. "Steve. I'm pretty sure Stark Industries has been double dealing, selling weapons to our side and the other side as well."

"Oh my god, Tony you've been dealing with all of this the whole time?"

"Yeah. I -" Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah."

"I -" Steve had a million questions, but Tony suddenly looked so exhausted that he couldn't bear to interrogate him now. "Come with me." He held out a hand and Tony took it without question. Steve levered him up to his feet. As they passed the spot where Tony had collapsed, Steve's toe bumped against the discarded chest piece. He bent down and picked it up. "Don't you need to save this?"

Tony shook his head. "Nah. It's outdated now."

"Oh." Steve turned it around in his hands. It didn't seem right to just throw it away when it was what had been keeping Tony alive all this time. A piece of his heart. "Hmm."

"You can just get rid of it."

"Um. Okay." Steve straightened up, tightening his grip on Tony's hand. And when they passed the garbage can by the door, he couldn't bring himself to toss the little blue, glowing disc away. If Tony noticed, he didn't say anything.

Steve led Tony up the stairs past the messy kitchen and up the next level to Tony's bedroom. He put Tony in the bathroom with instructions to take a shower and left the door cracked in case he needed any help. With JARVIS keeping watch, Steve ran the old reactor into his room and tossed it on the bed, then went back to find Tony still in the shower. For lack of anything better to do, Steve stripped and remade the bed just in case Tony's sheets hadn't been changed in a while. 

Tony reappeared a few minutes later in a cloud of steam, his hair going wild and curly around his head. He only had a towel hooked loosely around his waist, and Steve's mouth went dry at the sight of acres of naked, wet skin. But his eyes inevitably came back to the glowing, blue circle in the middle of his chest. "Does it hurt?" Steve couldn't help but ask.

Tony bit his lip, eyes going sad. "No… well. Yes." He yawned and rubbed a hand over his face. "It's fine." Dark bruises had appeared under Tony's eyes. "I'm - it's okay. I'm alive." Tony disappeared into the closet and Steve carefully turned the other way, hearing the thud of a wet towel hitting the floor and the result of clothing being put on. 

All Steve wanted to do was draw Tony into his arms, but he didn't think that'd be welcome, so when Tony reappeared in boxers and a t-shirt, Steve peeled the covers back and helped Tony climb up onto the bed. He frowned down at his alpha with concern. "Turns out cardiac arrest takes it out of you, huh?"

"It was just a tiny bit of cardiac arrest," Tony protested, shooting Steve a gut-twisting smile.

"New rule. No cardiac arrest at all. Not even a tiny bit."

"Okay. Fair." Tony's eyes slipped shut, and Steve moved away from the bed. "Steve?" Tony asked, sounding incredibly small, and Steve stopped and turned back.

"Yeah?"

"What if I have a - a thingy… in the night?"

Steve went very, very still. Surely Tony wasn't asking what he thought he was asking. "A heart thingy?" Steve offered carefully.

"Yeah."

"I could stay? Make sure you don't."

Tony's eyes fluttered open again and fixed on Steve's. "Yes, please."

"Okay." Steve stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt too, then, feeling bold, he took one of Tony's shirts out of his drawers and swapped his own for that one. He ran to his own bathroom to brush his teeth and take his meds, and when he got back, Tony was already halfway to sleep. Steve climbed in on the other side of the bed and propped himself up on enough pillows that he could see Tony's face without having to sit up. He stayed up for a long time, just watching Tony drift off into sleep and stay there.

**

When Steve woke, Tony was still in bed, sitting next to him, propped up by pillows. He had his glasses on and was staring intently at a tablet in his hand. It was so domestic that for a moment, Steve let himself sink into the fantasy that Tony was about to see he was awake, lean over and kiss him, and say, "What do you want for breakfast, honey?" He pretended, just long enough to feel that rush of warmth, that he was loved and everything was okay and that if he snuggled up and wrapped his arms around Tony's waist and rested his head on Tony's stomach, that Tony would hold him closer instead of pushing him away.

Unable to face having Tony shatter his fantasy, he pulled himself out of it. "How are you feeling?"

Tony looked over at him in surprise, apparently either not expecting him to be awake or having entirely forgotten he was there. Oddly, Steve prefered the second option - it was nice to think that maybe Tony was comfortable enough with him that he could forget he was there. 

"Good morning. Uhh. Better. Mostly. Thank you, again." Tony sighed. "What I did was really stupid. I shouldn't have tried to upgrade on my own."

Steve pushed up until his legs were folded under him, the blankets still pooled around his middle so the cold air wouldn't leak in and reach his feet. He twisted the hem of the top sheet between his fingers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tony was quiet for a long time. "At first? Honestly, because I couldn't trust you yet. I didn't know you. Which I realize is ridiculous because _I_ was the one who chose _you,_ but I still didn't know what things were going to be like between us, and as much as I hoped we'd be a good fit, I couldn't know for certain you wouldn't run off and tell the press."

"Why can't the press know?"

"It's… the technology. It's unprecedented. It's powerful. It's potentially dangerous. It's also a weak spot that feels like a bullseye on my chest. There are people who would be happier, richer, safer, and more powerful if this thing 'happened' to malfunction. I worry about them."

Steve gaped. "You really think someone would murder you for money?"

"Honey, someone would murder me for a lot less than money. But it's nice to know it's never crossed your mind." Tony laughed lightly, seemingly not noticing the way the casual nickname made Steve's cheeks flush. "But yeah. It's a risk, for a long list of reasons. And you remember that board of directors you were supposed to help keep off my back?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well if they knew about this, I'd be out on my ass so fast I'd leave skid marks. Obie knows. So does Pepper and Rhodey, because they were all involved with finding me and the hospital after. There are a few doctors that know. That's it. Well, and now you." Tony turned to Steve, eyes bright with an unasked question.

"I would never -" Steve shook his head "- never tell anyone. I promise."

"I know. I trust you. I've trusted you for a long time, Steve. That wasn't - I don't want you thinking that's why I didn't tell you, later on."

"Okay. I mean, I'd get it. It's a lot to trust someone with."

Tony raised an eyebrow and looked at their surroundings like _so's this?_ And Steve shrugged in reply. He knew Tony had shared his bed a lot before their bond. It wasn't anything special for him. A glowing piece of metal in his chest that kept him alive was a different matter. 

Tony cleared his throat. "I did trust you - do trust you - but then I didn't want to… I didn't want to scare you away. It's kind of a lot to deal with. I didn't want to scare you or upset you or make you feel like you'd fallen into some wacky Beauty and the Beast situation."

Steve barked out a laugh. "Oh yeah, cause having that in your chest is full on Beast-mode. Can barely stand to look at you now. Come on." Steve snorted.

Tony blinked. "What?"

Steve gave him a look. "You were People's Most Eligible Alpha four years in a row for a reason, Tony. Don't think a fancy pacemaker would have changed that if I hadn't shown up and ruined everyone's hopes and dreams."

"That stuff's just PR nonsense." Tony brushed it away.

"Well, yeah, but it's also true."

There was a hint of pink creeping up behind Tony's ears. "Uh. Anyway. I didn't tell you cause I didn't want to upset you and I also didn't want to put you in danger. Sometimes knowledge is dangerous… I mean really, if I was using my damn brain at all, I never would have selected someone because just having you here is dangerous. So that was… stupid. But then it was more dangerous to let you go… And I'll be honest, I thought a lot about sending you away on a 'retreat' somewhere safe with a lot of bodyguards. But…" Tony's lip disappeared between his teeth, and Steve raised his eyebrows, asking him to go on, heart in his throat. "But I like having you here," Tony finally breathed out. "I want you around. And I'm selfish, at heart, so I couldn't let you go."

"That's not selfish." Steve's voice was rough, and he coughed to try and clear it. "That's not selfish. I want to stay. I'd be… upset if you tried to send me away. Please don't."

"Okay. Okay. I just - it seemed like maybe you weren't very happy here. And I could send you away, with some of your friends even, and you'd have your own space and your own life and you wouldn't - I wouldn't - it could be -"

"No." Steve reached out and bravely covered Tony's hand with his. "I don't want to go."

"Okay." Tony let the word out on a sigh.

"I know I've said a lot of things to you that maybe weren't so nice over the last few months, but the truth is… I am happy here. It took a while, I'll admit. I was scared because I didn't know what to expect. But I was telling the truth at the press conference. I'm happy with you. I'm happy we were bonded. And you're kind and generous and you take good care of me. I feel safe here." _And I'm content, just like this, getting to be your friend,_ Steve added silently to himself.

"That's good," Tony said softly, almost more to himself. "That's good. You being here makes me happy."

It took everything Steve had to keep from flinging himself across the small space between them and pressing his lips to Tony's. He snatched his hand back before it could do something bold and curled back down under the covers. They were so close to being what Steve wanted. They'd come so far since that first day when Steve had been left to cry alone in his bathtub, and he wanted to be totally, completely open with Tony and tell him the truth, but Tony had too much on his mind to be worrying about Steve's silly feelings. And besides, Steve was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to handle getting kicked out of Tony's bed right now, so he held his tongue.

"I have something else I should tell you."

Steve tensed.

"There's… I think there's something more going on at SI." Tony's voice was rough, pained. "Someone's… Look, it's not just double dealing. I think Afghanistan might have been an inside job. I'm putting you in danger by telling you this, and I'm sorry, but I just don't think I can face this alone anymore. No one else knows. I've been trying to figure out how to do this but I set up internal security at SI to protect it from attacks. Now I'm the one trying to hack into my own servers and I can't." Tony scrubbed his hand over his face.

"You think someone who works at your company hired people to attack you?"

Tony nodded. 

"Well, shit."

Tony burst out laughing. "Agreed." He flopped back against the headboard and pulled his glasses off. 

Steve mentally scrolled through what Tony had said, trying to parse it into English. "You think the person who did it has damning evidence on their computer? And you've been trying to hack into it from here?"

"Yeah."

"What if you had the person's computer? Then could you get it?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. No hard drive can keep me out."

"So you just need to get the computer." Steve shrugged.

Tony blinked at him. "Just like that, huh?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"How am I supposed to justify borrowing my COO's personal laptop for half an hour? Reinstalling Windows?" Tony snorted.

But Steve went still, cold. "COO. You think it's _Mr. Stane?_ Oh my god. Wasn't he your father's best friend?"

Tony huffed. "I shouldn't have said. I don't know. I - I don't know. I don't want it to be." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But yeah, I think it is. I really do." Tony's voice went tight. "He… he went behind my back. He was the one I found selling weapons on the black market, double dealing. A reporter friend of mine has been sending me information. And ever since I changed the company's direction he's been fighting me on everything. I found out after the press conference we did that there have been two votes when I wasn't there to remove me from power."

"What? But I thought that was what I was for? That I helped?"

Tony turned to him, frowning. "Yeah. Yeah, it was. But I'm pretty sure the talk about me being unstable was attempt number two to out me, when blowing me up didn't work. But since you, my press has been pretty good. Everyone loves you."

Steve flushed hot, trying not to think about that too hard.

"So Obie changed tack. If I'm a stable, family man, then it's something else. My change in direction is fucking with the stock price - it's inevitable, it'll bounce back - but Obie's using that to leverage an injunction against me. I wish I could figure out another reason for him to have done what he's done, but I just can't. He was CEO until I took over and kicked him back down to second place, and he's not happy there. He was second in command to my dad, had a taste of power… I don't know, Steve. I trusted him." Tony's voice broke, and Steve wished he could curl up against his side, tuck his head against his chest, comfort him, but he settled for shifting a little closer and giving Tony's hand a squeeze.

"So what do we do?"

Tony looked startled by the question. "Well… you're right, I guess I need to get my hands on the computer."

"What can I do to help?"

"Oh no, Steve, I can't put you at risk. Obie tried to have me killed. I was blown up and tortured in a cave for weeks. There's no _fucking way_ I'm putting you in his sights. No." A slight rumbling growl leaked out of Tony's chest.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Tony. While I appreciate your desire to protect me - I really do - I'm already in his sights, aren't I? You set things up so I inherit your stock and your money if anything happens to you. Even though it's through an alpha trust, through Pepper, it'll still be more mine that Stane's. So if he really wants the company, once he takes you out, I'm next."

_"Fuck,"_ Tony said with deep feeling. "I'm such an idiot. I didn't even think of that. I should - I should change things…"

"To what? You can't tell me you're going to let that asshole have your company if you die? Then he wins. Fuck no. _Let me help._ Even if I wasn't at risk, I'd want to help, Tony. Anything I can do. You don't have to solve this alone."

Tony looked stunned, like that prospect had never occurred to him, and it made that same heat flare up inside Steve that had made him want to push Pepper away from him and adjust his tie himself. He wanted to tear Stane into pieces for putting that frown on Tony's face. "Really?" Tony asked, quietly.

"Yeah, of course."

"Alright. Okay. Okay. Let me think."

"Okay." Steve rolled over in bed and stretched, his joints popping. "Breakfast?"

"I'll get it." Tony made to get out of bed, but Steve rolled out too. 

"I need a shower." He yawned. "And if I don't get up now, I'll end up in bed forever."

"Okay. Meet you in the kitchen in ten?" Tony offered, and Steve grinned.

"Yeah, okay."

"This is for a strategy meeting!" Tony proclaimed, with false seriousness. "No goofing off."

"Yes, sir." Steve snapped a salute.

"What did I tell you about that shit?" Tony flicked the end of a pillow at Steve who yelped and ran off. He jogged all the way down his hallway and into his bathroom. He stripped his clothes off and jumped right into the shower, pausing to take one deep breath of Tony's shirt that he'd effectively snuck off with. 

Despite the scare of last night, and Tony's upsetting news this morning, Steve felt hyped up and excited. Maybe it was wrong to be pleased that this was bringing him and Tony closer together, but waking up in bed with him again was too nice to ignore. And Tony trusted him enough to tell him about his worries, to let Steve help. That meant something to Steve.

He scrubbed up and rinsed as quickly as he could, then towel dried and put on fresh clothes. Tony was waiting for him in the kitchen, sipping a glass of juice. Steve had gone grocery shopping last week and there were still bagels and cream cheese so he took two out of the sleeve and put them in the toaster. Tony watched him, clearly thinking.

"I have a plan," he finally said. "But it's a bit risky."

"Risky's my middle name."

"You know? I know it's Grant, but I'm actually going to agree on that one. Especially after hearing Bucky talk about you as a kid. Between my impulsivity and your lack of self-preservation, I predict great things for us in the future."

Steve chuckled and shook his head. A few months ago, hearing Tony talk as if they were going to be together forever would have been such a potent relief when his deepest concern was being dumped on a street corner with nothing, but now it was just… _of course._ Of course they were going to be together. They were partners. Steve could live without the flashy romance and the lustful desire of his novels; it'd be hard, but he could. And this was so worth it, having this. "What's the plan?"

"I call a board meeting. I've been purposely putting them off or arranging for not enough members to be there to call a vote, because I know next time we're all together, I'm getting voted out. So it'd be my last chance, because after that, Obie's going to want me away from the executive floor, 'for my own good' and 'to make sure I don't confuse anyone about the chain of command,' I'm sure. But he takes his personal laptop with him when he's not at the office and to most meetings too. But not board meetings. We have a 'no devices in board meetings' policy, so he'll leave it in his office." Tony looked pointedly at Steve.

"You want me to break into Stane's office and steal his laptop?"

"No, no. Not steal. I want you to casually _walk_ into Stane's office and plug a USB key into his laptop. I can build a program that will do the rest. But I can't guarantee how long I can keep the meeting going. If he calls the vote right away, it might be over pretty quickly. I don't know. I can't - I can't really ask you to take that risk."

"When?"

"What?"

"When are we doing it?"

"I - we haven't decided to do it yet."

The _we_ was what pushed Steve away from the counter and into Tony's space. Even if Tony never wanted romance, desire, love, from Steve, he respected him, saw him as a person, and saw their bond as a partnership, and that made Steve want to fight for him. "We're going to do whatever it takes. Give me a USB key and tell me when."

Tony nodded. "Okay. Okay. I'll need a day or two and I have to make sure enough board members can be there without arousing Obie's suspicion. I'll aim for mid next week, but I'll let you know."

"Okay."

"You really don't have to do this," Tony said. "I can figure out another way."

"I know." The bagels sprung up out of the toaster and Steve put them on two plates then started spreading cream cheese. "But I want to." He pushed Tony's plate across the counter towards him, and he looked at it like it was way more than a bagel.

"Thank you."

**

Steve tried not to fidget, but he was nervous, and it was so hard to keep his hands still. It had taken over a week for Tony to arrange the meeting and get the USB key ready and it had been a tense one. Not with Tony, Tony had been lovely. Steve still felt it wasn't right to burden Tony with his confession until things were resolved with SI, but the secret felt like it was constantly crawling up the back of his throat, trying to break free, especially when Tony smiled at him, laughed at one of his jokes, or squeezed his elbow. 

Tony had also stopped covering the arc reactor at home, which made Steve's heart swell with affection every time he saw it. Apparently, there was some kind of magnet he usually wore over it that blocked the light from bleeding through his shirt, but now he just glowed, all the time. Steve slept with the old, faulty arc reactor on his bedside table. He'd intended to paint it, maybe, but the soft, blue light made such a comforting nightlight that he couldn't bring himself to move it. 

But now, the time had come for action, and despite Tony's comforting words in the elevator, Steve was nervous. When they arrived, Tony made a big deal out of bringing Steve to the office, introducing him to people and showing him around the executive floor. A few board members had gathered in Tony's office to meet his omega and chat, and Steve stood dutifully at his side, shook the hand of everyone he was introduced to, and kept his mouth shut. But it was hard keeping his body still too, when adrenaline pumped through his veins and his heart thudded painfully against his ribs.

Tony wrapping an arm around him drew him out of his restlessness, though. He curled into Tony as he was pulled up against his chest. Tony leaned down and touched his lips to Steve's ear under the cover of a cheek kiss. "Ready?"

Steve nodded.

"Okay." He leaned back and spoke louder, to the room. "I'll be back soon, honey. If you need anything, let my secretary know."

"Okay, Tony." Steve hugged him then released him and watched Tony and Stane walk out of the office. "I'll wait."

Tony threw a wink over his shoulder. "Good boy." Then he was gone.

Steve stuck his hand in his pocket to make sure he still had the USB key, then pulled the door open just a crack and looked out. The door to the meeting room was closed, but he could see light spilling from under the door. _Down the hall, past the board room, turn right. Door at the end of the hall._

Steve counted to twenty, just to make sure everyone was properly settled in the meeting, then he slipped out of Tony's office, using the key Tony gave him to lock it behind him. He followed the directions, his heart skipping in his chest as he passed the door to the meeting room. Tony had made sure the blinds were pulled over the hallway windows, but Steve still imagined the door flinging open and someone yelling at him to stop. 

He kept his chin up, trying to look like he belonged, and marched all the way to Stane's office and slipped inside. He latched the door behind him and made right for Stane's desk. His laptop was closed so Steve levered it open and waited for the login screen to pop up. When it did, he took out the USB key from his pocket and clicked it into the side of the laptop.

And then he just had to wait. 

He could barely breathe, heart lodged somewhere up in his chest, and every noise from the rest of the offices made him startle. The adrenaline in his veins felt strong enough to fuel a small country. But he needed to do this. For Tony. The login screen disappeared and a new one appeared, then a loading bar popped up that said _"Please wait"_ at the top. So Steve kept waiting. 

Tony had put a program on the key that would go through every file on the laptop, even the places that weren't accessible through the network, and look for anything that might have to do with Afghanistan. The bar ticked on, closer and closer, but Tony had warned him that it would probably take a few minutes, considering the size of the hard drive. 

Tony's plan was to drag the board meeting out as long as possible, but the bar was still only at 60% when Steve heard footsteps down the hall. A familiar voice called, "Obie, wait!"

"I'm not having this conversation with you in the hallway, Tony. Come to my office."

"Let's go to my office. I -"

"Tony," Stane said firmly.

Steve swore silently to himself. He couldn't leave the office - it was already too late, they'd see him. He couldn't hide because Tony wouldn't know the USB was still in the computer, and if he didn't get it back, not only would he not have the files, but Stane would know someone had looked. It was only at 72% though and it wouldn't finish before the door opened. Steve looked around in a panic. There was a newspaper on the table and he tucked it up against the side of the laptop to hide the USB key then whipped across the office to stand in front of Stane's bookshelves, just as the door opened.

"Tony, what you have to understand is - what the hell are you doing in here?"

Steve spun around. Stane and Tony were standing side by side in the doorway, and Steve watched as Tony's face melted from hope to despair when he saw him still there. Steve crossed his hands behind his back and ducked his head. "Sorry, sir. I was just looking for something to read."

"You were looking for something to read?" Stane stalked closer. "In my private office?"

"Didn't know it was your office. I -" Steve was cut off by Stane's hand smacking into the side of his face hard enough to make his ear ring.

Steve was knocked sideways, but Stane caught a handful of his shirt and held him up.

"Obie!" Tony shouted, jerking towards them, but Stane stopped him with a look.

"What the hell are you doing, Tony? Letting your omega wander around the offices?"

"He has a name," Tony breathed out, barely loud enough to be words.

"He has an _attitude,"_ Stane bit back.

Steve crossed his fingers behind his back and begged Tony to play along. Tony's eyes cut to him, and Steve widened his pointedly, flicked his gaze to the newspaper by the laptop then back to Tony. He repeated the look and he saw it register, as Tony's whole demeanor changed with an overdramatic sigh. "Honestly? I have no fucking clue what I'm doing with him. I thought this bonding shit would be easier."

Stane chuckled indulgently. "Omegas need to be managed, Tony. You can't just let them do what they please. They'll get you into trouble."

Tony walked over to the window and looked sideways at where Steve was still hanging from Stane's fist. "He does have an attitude. And a mouth he doesn't know when to keep shut."

Steve pursed his lips together. 

"Then beat it out of him," Stane said. "Or knot him til he's too fucked out to talk."

Tony shrugged. "Not really interested." Even though it was all an act, the words still bit hard into the middle of Steve's chest. It was true. Tony wasn't interested in him like that. That part was easy to fake and it _hurt._

Tony paced his way around the room, and Steve saw his eyes flick to the computer screen. It had to be close to done by now, but Steve couldn't see it from where he was standing. Stane's alpha stench was starting to overwhelm him and the tight grip on his shirt was pressing painfully over his sternum. He needed his inhaler. He needed to get out of there. He willed down the panic flushing his veins and squirmed a bit to keep Stane's attention on him and not on Tony.

Stane gave him a shake that rattled his teeth together. "He's your responsibility, Tony. You're lucky it was me and not someone else. A little shit like this could get you in real trouble. I care about you. I'm just trying to protect you. "

"Why do I feel like we're not talking about my omega anymore?" Tony grumbled.

Stane chuckled. His hold finally loosened, but when that made Steve slump to the side, he grabbed his arm instead. His fingers almost made it all the way around Steve's bicep and he dug in hard enough that each finger throbbed up a new pain point.

"Tony…" Stane's voice had softened into sickly sweet territory. "I really _am_ just trying to protect you. CEO isn't a good fit for you. No one wants you to leave SI, but you're better off focusing on what you love, the inventing, the ideas. You shouldn't have to worry about all this silly upstairs stuff."

Tony sighed, and Steve saw his eyes flick to the screen again. "My dad wanted me to have the business, Obie. He wanted me to take charge."

"Well, god rest his soul, but he's not here. He wanted you to be _him,_ son, but you're not. He didn't get the chance to see what an amazing young man you grew up to be, but I have. And you're not him. This isn't your place. I'm just trying to protect you. If you keep fighting the board, eventually this is going to happen, anyway, but at least if I'm here guiding it, I can keep you safe. You'll keep your position in the workshop. That's what you really want, isn't it?"

Tony rounded the desk and leaned back against the opposite side, his back parallel with the laptop. His hands dropped to the desktop to support himself and if he just wiggled his left back a little, he'd be able to reach the USB key. But Stane was still watching him. "I guess you're right." Tony shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sick of arguing with them."

"Go home, Tony. Sort your omega out and focus on your design projects. I'll handle the board."

"Yeah, okay." Tony scrubbed his right hand over his face and his left snuck back a little more. 

Steve had to distract Stane. It was the only way Tony would get a chance to grab the key. "Let go of me!" He struggled in Stane's grip making Stane round on him immediately, teeth bared, growling. Every atom in Steve's body raged at him to _Submit! Submit!_ He whimpered as Stane's fingers dug in deeper. 

"You have no fucking idea how good you have it, do you? You little shit. Taking advantage of To-"

"Obie." Tony's voice was hard and sharp and suddenly right next to Steve's ear. 

Stane went still and straightened up. Tony's eyes were hard and flashing with anger. "I'll handle that."

"Are you sure? If you're finding him difficult, I can show you some things, my boy. A ruler to the knuckles is always -"

"Yes. I'm sure. Give him to me, Obie. He may be…" Tony's eyes cut to Steve then away. "Challenging. But he's _my_ omega. You're right. He's my responsibility. I don't need you to manage him for me."

"Okay." Stane released Steve's arm and shoved him towards Tony who caught him with a firm hand to the back of Steve's neck. It made Steve want to sink to his knees right there, press himself up against Tony's calf and hide his face, turn off, close down, let everything else go but _Alpha._ Stane huffed, annoyed. "But if I ever find him in here again…"

"You won't." Tony's fingers tightened a little, and Steve bit back the squeak that threatened the back of his throat. "You won't."

Tony started to walk Steve out of the office and his eyes cut over to Stane's laptop. The top was closed. Did that mean Tony had grabbed the key?

As soon as they were out the door, Tony started motoring full speed to the private elevator, his hand dropping from Steve's neck to curl around his waist. Steve almost missed its pressure. The elevator doors slid open, and Tony pushed Steve inside then immediately caught Steve's face in both hands. He stroked his thumb over his cheek as the door's closed behind him and his expression twisted from murderous to so utterly heartbroken that Steve had the urge to ask him what was wrong.

"Did you get it?" Steve asked.

"Are you okay? God. _Fuck._ I could rip his goddamn head off. Did he hurt you?" Tony tipped Steve's head gently to the side so his cheek was in the light. "Shit. You're all red. JARVIS, do we have ice upstairs? Oh, honey, this is going to bruise. I'm so sorry." Tony's voice broke.

"We have frozen peas, sir."

"It's okay. I'm okay. _Did you get it?"_

"Yes, yes I got it. It's in my pocket. But you're hurt. Fuck this is going to be a black eye." Tony petted Steve's cheek again. 

"I'm really okay," Steve started to say but then the doors slid open and Tony was bustling him off to the kitchen and making him sit on one of the tall stools by the breakfast bar. Tony stuck his head in the freezer and came out with a bag of frozen peas. 

He wrapped it in a tea towel and used one gentle hand on Steve's other cheek to steady him as he pressed the peas over the spot where Stane had slapped him. Tony's lips were in a tight line and his jaw flexed with how hard his teeth were clenched together. His eyes were so sad, wet and a little shaky, and Steve reached out and took a handful of Tony's shirt, over his stomach. "Tony, I'm really okay."

"He hit you," Tony said flatly. "I wanted to put my fist through his face. I don't care if he was responsible for Afghanistan. I'm going to destroy him either way."

Steve sighed and leaned into Tony's touch. The cool ice felt really good, but it reignited the nerves that had been stung into numbness, and the entire right side of Steve's face throbbed. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He could smell Tony's distress, sharp and pungent, but knowing it was over protecting him made his head spin and he sucked in more and more of the scent until he felt dizzy, nothing but _Tony_ flushing through his veins. 

Tony made a sharp noise of distress, and Steve's eyes fluttered open again but when he found Tony's face, he looked the same as before. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just - uh - JARVIS, how long should I ice for?"

"No longer than ten minutes sir. Another four minutes and twenty-three seconds."

"Oh, your hand must be cold." Steve put his hand over Tony's, meaning to take control of the tea towel, but Tony didn't move his. 

"It's okay." There was something like penance in Tony's voice, so Steve sighed and dropped his hand.

"Don't blame yourself. I don't blame you. And it was worth it, right? Let me hold this and you get JARVIS started on the files."

"I don't care about the damn files," Tony muttered.

"Tony!"

"Okay, fine!" Tony grabbed Steve's wrist and guided his hand up to the peas then let go. "There." He crossed his arms, and his pout was so cute that Steve giggeld. Tony rolled his eyes but now he was smiling too. "Okay. Let's give this to JARVIS. But, uh, come with me?"

"Yeah, of course." Steve followed Tony down to his workshop. JARVIS let him know shortly after that his ten minutes was up, so he put the peas in Tony's freezer for later and curled up on the couch with a blanket. The ice felt nice but it had given him a chill that he was struggling to shake, and it turned into full on shivers when a video popped up on Tony's screen and started to play.

It was a ransom call. For Tony. Who was kneeling in the middle with a bag over his head, dirty, bleeding, wires coming out of his chest. His hands were tied together in front of him, and he was shaking. Steve couldn't understand what they were saying, but one word stuck out: Stane.

Steve's stomach twisted and threatened to upend. It was like everything he'd managed to not feel while stuck in Stane's hold in his office suddenly crashed down on him and he tugged the blanket tighter around him with a soft whimper.

Tony snapped around, took one look at him, and smacked the keyboard until the movie stopped playing and the screen went black.

"It was definitely him?" Steve asked.

Tony nodded slowly. "It was definitely him."

"I think… I think I'm going to be sick."

Tony pushed out of his chair and sunk down on the couch next to Steve. "Yeah, me too." He dropped his face in his hands and breathed extra deeply for a long time. Steve tried to match his breathing until they were drawing breath in tandem. Once he was sure he wasn't going to throw up, he tipped forward and draped himself over Tony's back, curling his arms around Tony's chest, but carefully avoiding the arc reactor.

Tony took Steve's arms and drew them even tighter, leaning back into his hold. He longed to burrow further, press his face into Tony's neck and scent him properly, find comfort in a grounding kiss, but now wasn't the time to push for something more, and Tony wasn't in a place to be able to agree to it anyway. "Thank you," Tony said roughly.

Steve squeezed him tighter. "Tony, I'm so, so sorry."

"He -" Tony's voice broke. "I trusted him. I trusted him with _everything._ He helped raise me. He was like - _fuck._ And he did this -" Tony waved at the computer screen "- and he hurt you… I…"

Steve wished he knew what to say, what Tony needed, but he wasn't sure there were any right words. So he just leaned his whole weight against Tony's side, dropped the cheek that wasn't aching to Tony's shoulder and waited. After a few minutes, Tony's shoulders stopped shaking and he wiped his face and sat up. Steve moved back, giving him space, but when Tony leaned against the cushions, he twisted to keep his shoulder pressed up against Steve's.

"So what do we do now?" Steve asked.

"Honestly? I don't know." Tony sighed and squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. "I don't know. This is not something that's easily taken to the police - I definitely got this information illegally - but he has control of SI right now and I don't know what he's going to do with it. Certainly undo everything I've done. But if I release this… there's going to be other information about me that goes along with it. I - I don't know. First, I have to go through all this data, piece by piece."

"Okay."

"But first-first, we need to get ready for your thing tonight."

"What? Oh god, I completely forgot the charity dinner. We could cancel? I don't want you to -"

"No, no. This is important. It's good. I'll leave J to do a first pass on the files and when we get back I'll be able to get into it in depth. I suddenly have much less work to do tomorrow, so I'll be able to focus on it. It's okay. Come on. I need a shower."

The way Tony said _come on,_ made Steve's blood pump hotter, as if Tony would invite him to share, but he swallowed back that thought and followed him out of the workshop and upstairs. He split off down the hall to his own room without a second glance, worried what his face might say, and stepped into his own shower. 

Getting ready this time felt distinctly different from the Lights Up Gala. Last time, it had still felt like Steve against Tony. This one was him and Tony versus the world. Three months ago, Tony was the least safe place on earth for Steve, and now he was the only place he felt even remotely protected. The urge to crawl into his arms and never leave was so overpowering that Steve worried briefly that he'd embarrass himself in public.

But the truth was that Tony was still pretending and if Steve curled up to him at dinner tonight, Tony'd have to play along. It was… tempting, to abuse their situation like that, but then Steve would have to explain himself later and he wasn't sure he could sell "I thought they weren't believing we were a couple in love" with a straight face.

Steve dressed nicely, feeling like he'd been dressing nicely almost every day the last two weeks and he was looking forward to three whole days in painting pants, whenever that came next. He pasted heavy makeup over the bruise on his cheek, which thankfully made it almost invisible. The last thing he needed was a picture in the paper of him with a handprint on his face. At best, he'd get _Stark's New Omega a "Handful"_ and at worst it would sic the Omega Rights people after Tony. He put the cufflinks Tony had bought him on himself this time, though he missed the way Tony had cradled his wrist before. While he was straightening his tie, his phone rang. He dug his new phone out of his pocket, but that wasn't ringing, and it took a minute of rummaging around in his sitting room before he found his old one tangled in the blanket on the futon. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, bud."

"Hey, Buck. What's up?"

"I called Sam. He's coming over next week."

Steve fist-pumped. "Yes! Get it!"

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky grumbled. "Whatever. You tell Tony yet?"

Steve huffed out a sigh. "Not exactly…"

"Steve!"

"Look, it was bad timing okay? He ended up - uh - getting really sick before dinner that night, and it wasn't right. I'm going to tell him, though. I swear. We're just - he's going through some crazy shit at work and I don't want to stress him out even more. After."

"Uh huh." Bucky sounded distinctly skeptical. 

"I _will."_

"Sure."

"And you're going to tell that alpha of yours too, right?" Steve huffed,

Bucky sighed. "I'm not in love with him," he mumbled.

"But maybe? You could be? If you gave it a chance?"

Steve could _hear_ Bucky nodding. "Maybe… we'll see. And before you say it, yes, I'm giving it a chance, okay? He's coming over. We'll see. I do - I do want it - him - so. I'm giving it a chance."

"That's good, Bucky. I really hope it works out."

"For you too." 

Steve flicked the phone away from his ear for a second to check the time. "I gotta run. Charity thing."

"God, you're so fancy now."

Steve burst out laughing. "I'll bring you along some time. You'll like the food."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Buck."

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"He's taking good care of you, right?"

Steve thought back to the warm presence of Tony in bed with him for two nights now, the way he'd smiled so softly at him in the morning, the bike ride, the press conference, the ice pack. "Yeah. I promise. He's taking real good care of me."

"Okay, good. Night." Bucky hung up.

Steve came out of his sitting room to find Tony standing in the doorway, fiddling with his cuffs. 

"Oh, hey. I was just coming to get you."

Steve looked down at the two phones in his hands.

"Kept your old one?" And there was nothing accusatory in Tony's voice, no concern, no judgement. Steve had been so worried about him finding out before.

"Yeah. Nostalgia, I guess, but I don't need it." He took the old phone and tucked it in the top drawer of his bedside table then quickly added Bucky's numbers to his contacts in the one along with the library. He fired off a text.

_Forgot to tell you I have a new phone. You can use this number now._

Steve put his phone and wallet in his pocket and met Tony at the door. Tony frowned briefly at Steve's covered up cheek, then took a deep breath and slung an arm around his shoulders to lead him off towards the elevators. "You know, if you ask JARVIS very nicely, he'll copy your old text history to your new phone so you don't lose your messages."

"Oh! Oh, that'd be great. Thanks." Steve leaned into Tony's solid lines without trying to make it obvious he was doing so. "Thanks, JARVIS."

"My pleasure, sir."

Stane's betrayal hung heavily over both of them all night, but Steve still found he was able to enjoy himself a little, and Tony seemed to be too. Patrick was an excellent host, and the smaller, more intimate party was less stressful than the gala. Mostly, because Steve was able to stay close to Tony the whole time, but also because once he'd met everyone, he didn't have to put much energy into trying to remember who he could talk to and who he shouldn't. 

There were some familiar faces, however.

"Senator!" Tony exclaimed, his fingers digging in a little where they curved around Steve's shoulders. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Stern grimaced, clearly trying to make it look like a smile. "Yes, well." He paused, strained. "I was invited."

"Sure, yeah, I bet. Also," Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "Probably some unidentified billionaire who also happens to chair the Maria Stark Foundation called your social organizer and reminded him how good it would look for you to be seen supporting more omega causes. Especially after that rather nasty piece in Vanity Fair last month. Someone must have leaked those memos."

Stern cleared his throat. "Yes. Miss Everhart wouldn't release her source, unfortunately."

"Everhart. Why does that name ring a bell? Oh yeah." Tony snapped his fingers. "I used to owe her a favour. Don't anymore. Oh, look! A photographer." Tony tugged Stern in beside him, with Steve on the other side, and the camera flashed. "Thanks, bud."

Stern stepped away as soon as the photographer was done, straightening his jacket roughly. "Yes, well. I'm sure I can count on your support at the midterms. Two votes can go a long way."

"Well. I'm only responsible for one of them."

"Excuse me?"

Tony's eyes flashed dangerously. "The other vote is Steve's. I won't speak for him. As you well know, he's far too good at speaking for himself. He's pretty good at speaking for me too, actually. Who knows, maybe I'll let him pick both votes. Only seems fair since he's got several years of not being able to vote to make up for. What do you think, honey? Would you have voted for Stern?"

Steve grinned, leaning into Tony's side. "Pretty sure you're one of the reasons I haven't been able to vote until now, sir." He actually hadn't thought about voting at all, but it was both nice and scary to know Tony was going to let him choose his own candidate. Not that he was paying enough attention to choose wisely, but he had time to learn.

Stern's jaw worked for a moment, then he turned to Steve. "Congratulations on launching the charity, young man. I hope it does well."

"Thank you, senator. I'm very grateful for your support."

The senator cleared his throat. "I best mingle. Nice to see you, Stark." He nodded towards Steve without making eye contact then disappeared.

Tony started chuckling, and Steve elbowed him in the side. "Did you really leak memos to a reporter? Isn't that illegal?"

"A party full of the press is a great place to talk about illegal things, Steve."

Steve blanched. "Sorry."

"No, I'm kidding." He laughed again, and gave Steve an affectionate little shake. "I'm kidding. You're fine. No, I didn't leak memos. She got that somewhere else. Just my good luck, I guess. I _did_ owe her a favour, but I repaid it by putting in a good word with her with WHIH World News."

"Oh, okay."

The rest of the party was largely eventless. Steve shook a lot of hands and had several interesting conversations with a few philanthropists on the front lines of omega rights and protections activism. Patrick made a speech that drew a lot of attention to the Reading Rooms programming Steve was trying to put in place, and it was all so surreal, to hear his name attached to something like that, and not as a subset of Tony's name, but on its own. To his surprise, he found himself wanting to celebrate Tony more. To say - but my alpha did so much! It's his money! His connections! But Tony melted into the background and let Steve take centre stage as much as he could.

It was amazing and challenging and exhausting, and Steve almost fell asleep in the car on the way home, tipping over so his cheek rested on Tony's shoulder as the lights of the city flashed by. The thought of all the omegas this was going to help kept a smile on his face.

Tony didn't let go of his hand as they made their way up to the penthouse, and when they walked into the living room, Steve yawned and stretched, feeling more awake. "Do you need to… uh. Work?" The both knew he didn't mean on SI projects.

Tony's eyes flickered towards the stairs to his workshop but he shook his head and turned back to Steve. "Not yet. You deserve a celebration! You just launched your first charity. How does it feel?" Tony put an imaginary mic under Steve's mouth.

"Weird. Surreal. Amazing."

"Thirsty?"

"Yes. God. So thirsty. I've never talked so much in my life."

Tony laughed and went to the wet bar. He grabbed a bunch of bottles, expertly spinning and pouring. He shook up the mixture then poured it in two glasses and slid one across to Steve. "You were amazing tonight."

"Thank you." Steve clinked the edge of his glass against Tony's and they both took a sip.

"Oh, shit." Tony smacked his palm against the bartop. "I do have to go downstairs. But I'm not touching work! I just promised Lindsey I'd fax him those projections for his council meeting tomorrow. It's all for you, I swear."

Steve laughed. "It's okay, Tony. You can go send your emails. I'll pick a movie?"

"Yeah, perfect."

There was an odd moment, where Tony moved around the counter and sort of physically stuttered, like he was going to move towards Steve instead of towards the stairs, but then he shook his head and spun on his heel. Steve watched him go with heated cheeks. Tony wasn't just about to kiss him, was he? There was no way. But there was something about how he'd moved, the way he leaned, how his gaze had darted down from Steve's eyes…

Maybe it was time to tell him, after all. Maybe, before everything went to hell with whatever was in those documents, Steve should tell Tony he fell in love with him and he wanted more. That was it. He'd just say what he'd planned. _Tony, I want more. If you don't, that's okay, but mostly, I just wanted you to know I love you._ And then he'd go up to his room and leave it up to Tony to come talk to him when he was ready. 

Yeah. That was what he should do. 

The sound of the elevator humming made Steve round the corner to stare at the doors. "JARVIS? Is there a delivery?"

There was no answer.

Then the doors slid open and Obediah Stane walked into the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (AO3 emails weren't working for a lot of people last weekend, so make sure you didn't miss the last update before you read this one! <3)

"M-Mr. Stane." Steve backed up three steps. Where was JARVIS? "We were just going to have a drink. Can I get you something?"

Stane smiled, and for a moment, Steve could believe that everything was fine, Tony was rebooting JARVIS downstairs, and any second now he'd come up and talk to Stane like everything was normal and it'd be fine.

But then Stane crossed the room in two, huge strides and grabbed Steve by the back of the neck, his other hand snapping over his mouth. "Oh, you can get me something, alright, sweetheart," he rumbled. Steve started trembling in Stane's hold as he bent closer and closer. He pressed his lips to Steve's ear. "Your alpha."

Steve shook his head back and forth.  _ No, not Tony. Please. _ But Stane's hand kept him from speaking and not being able to pull air in through his mouth was making his head spin. Stane gripped the front of Steve's face harder, digging his fingers into Steve's still-bruised cheek to keep hold of him while the other hand dug around in his pocket and came up with a roll of duct tape. He started with a piece over Steve's mouth then wrapped enough around his wrists that he could barely move them. 

_ You should have fought him, _ Steve thought, as his brain seemed to blink back online, but he was shaking now and he didn't know how to make any part of his body move.

Stane gripped the back of Steve's neck again, too tight, and slid his other hand down Steve's side then into his pocket. He came out with Steve's keyring. On the keyring was Steve's panic button, and sure enough, Stane flipped to that and held it up. "Shall we call your white knight to save you?"

Steve shook his head again, pleading with his eyes, but Stane just laughed. He shoved Steve to the floor, not caring when he nearly tipped over, only barely catching himself with one elbow before he ate a faceful of carpet. He turned back to watch as Stane positioned himself next to the stairs, hidden behind a wall, and pushed Steve's panic button.

Steve counted the seconds, begging with every inch of himself that Tony wouldn't hear it, wouldn't know, or even wouldn't care. With JARVIS silenced, maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe. Maybe.

And then footsteps hit the stairs. Tony. And he was running.

"Steve?!" He burst out of the stairwell, his eyes going wide when he saw Steve on the floor, but before he could speak, Stane stepped out of the shadows and held his hand up to Tony's ear. Tony went stock still, eyes wide, muscles tense, and Steve could see now that Stane had a small device in his hand, about the size of a laser pointer. 

"Breathe," Stane said softly. He eased Tony down until he was sitting on the couch and Tony just went, his eyes filled with terror, but his body limp. "Easy, easy. You remember this one, right? It's a shame the government didn't approve it. There's so many applications for causing short-term paralysis."

Stane put the device in his pocket and leaned forward over Tony, who seemed to be able to move just enough to bring his eyes to Stane's face. "Tony... Tony... When I ordered the hit on you, I worried that I was killing the golden goose. But, you see, it was just fate that you survived that. You had one last golden egg to give." He covered the soft light in Tony's chest with one hand. "Do you really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you? Your father, he helped give us the atomic bomb. Now, what kind of world would it be today if he was as selfish as you?"

Stane pushed up Tony's shirt, and Steve's heart wrenched. He struggled against his bonds, but there was no give at all in the tape.

Stane ran his finger around the edge of the reactor until he found the release and he pressed it, the reactor popping easily out into his hands. He lifted it up and turned it back and forth. "Oh, it's beautiful. Tony, this is your Ninth Symphony. What a masterpiece. Look at that. This is your  _ legacy _ . A new generation of weapons with this at its heart. Weapons that will help steer the world back on course, put the balance of power in our hands. The right hands. I wish you could've seen my prototype. It's not as… Well, not as conservative as yours. Less flash," he growled. "More substance."

Tony's eyes went wider, and Steve wondered what Stane meant. He'd built a prototype arc reactor already? Then why did he need Tony's?

"Too bad you had to involve your omega in this. Shame to waste something so pretty."

Something flashed dark and violent in Tony's eyes, like a sudden thunderstorm, and his jaw tensed, but he still couldn't move. Stane leaned in and wrenched the cable from Tony's chest, leaving the gaping hole in his chest. 

And Steve knew first hand what happened when Tony didn't have his arc reactor. The way he'd found him, unconscious and dying, on the workshop floor. Now, it was going to happen again, only he was alone this time, and Steve couldn't help him. He struggled until his shoulder screamed with pain, but he couldn't loosen his bonds.

Stane patted Tony on the cheek, gently, almost pityingly, then straightened up. He stared at the arc reactor in his hand for a moment, smiling, then crossed the room towards the elevators. 

_ Leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me, _ Steve begged, trying to curl up small and forgettable, but Stane grabbed a handful of his shirt and dragged him along, forcing Steve to scramble and kick out with his feet to keep from being choked.

Stane walked right past the elevators, but Steve couldn't take his eyes off Tony to see where they were going. He gave up fighting and let the carpet scrape against his lower back as Stane dragged him like a ragdoll. Tony's gaze never left his until Stane rounded the corner and a wall came between them. Steve's eyes burned as hot tears left wet tracks down his cheeks. 

Steve startled struggling again, this time in an attempt to be as annoying to bring along as possible. Maybe he'd give up and drop Steve here and he could somehow get to his phone…

But Stane barely seemed to notice Steve's twisting and kicking, he just kept on all the way to the freight elevators. He took his phone out, typed something in, and the doors opened. He threw Steve inside, and Steve scrambled backwards with a startled yelp.

There was something already in the elevator car. It looked like Iron Man, but much, much bigger. 

_ Oh my god, _ Steve tried to say, but the tape over his mouth made it come out as muffled nonsense. Stane stepped up the metal man and ran a hand lovingly over its chest. The elevator doors slid shut, trapping Steve inside. 

"It's a shame, you know, that Tony was such a waste, in the end. I loved him, like a son. But I love this company, too. And he wasn't caring for it, Steve. The way he failed to care for you. Running a business takes a firm hand, just like managing an omega. Tony couldn't do either." Stane sighed heavily and spread his fingers over the hole in the middle of the false Iron Man's chest. "I tried to get him to step down graciously, I tried to protect him, but he kept fighting me. Tony's too soft to be king, Steve. You know that. I know you do. And though I imagine you care for him on some level, don't worry." He bent low, his face too close to Steve's. "You'll come to respect me in time."

Steve's stomach flipped over and he started shaking again, pulling at the tape around his wrists again on pure instinct. Stane was going to claim a familial bond. He'd killed Tony and now he was going to steal Steve. Stane and Tony weren't related by blood, but Steve had seen crazier arrangements approved. 

Oh god, and that meant SI… Tony had left so much in Steve's name, so much money, his property, and most of the company. If Steve was claimed through a familial bond his trust would be dissolved and everything would go to Stane. And then he'd either keep Steve as his omega - and would no doubt be everything Steve had feared Tony would be when he'd first been selected - or he'd take everything and kill him. And SI would be his to ruin.

Steve couldn't let that happen, but he didn't know what to do.

Stane kissed the arc reactor he'd just ripped out of Tony's chest then slid it into the hole in his metal armour. It hummed, starting low then rising, and the light clicked on. "Beautiful," Stane murmured. 

The elevator doors slid open and a vicious wind cut in, blowing Steve's hair up in a mess and forcing him to tuck his face into his chest. 

"Iron Monger!" Stane declared, spreading his arms wide as if he were on stage at a presentation. "Better, stronger, more powerful. With this, I can give the world what it needs…"

Steve shuffled backwards. The roof was large and multi-level, with several walls protecting utility boxes. Maybe he could get away, get out of Stane's view and maybe out of his thoughts. Steve rolled, rubbing his cheek through the dirt, and managed to get up to his knees. His head spun and his chest ached. He needed his inhaler, but he didn't have one in his pocket. Tony had kept one in his pocket for him at the dinner so he wouldn't have to…

_ Tony… _

The dull ache was cut through by a sharp pain, and Steve swallowed and blinked. He couldn't afford to cry now. Now, he needed to find a way to contact someone about Stane. Rhodey. Rhodey would know. If he could get to the stairs and to his feet, he could get back downstairs and call Rhodey. Rhodey would send the army, the police, everyone. And Stane wouldn't get away with… with what he did.

Steve half pushed up to his feet, but the dizziness took him right back down again. He shuffled along instead, the gravel rubbing rough through the knees of his pants. The surface of the roof changed nearby, and Steve made for it, hoping it would be easier on his knees, but when he approached the edge and looked down, his head spun so violently he had to drop backwards, heart pounding with a rush of adrenaline. It was a sheer drop, straight down. His stomach flipped.

After a moment of careful breathing, Steve pushed himself back and up and peered over the edge again. In the dark and wind - and through his tears - he'd thought it was an open hole he'd nearly tumbled right through, but now he could see it was a sheet of glass, reinforced by an attractive criss-cross of metal bars. It was the atrium roof over the winding staircase that spiralled up along one side of the penthouse. Steve never used them, preferring the elevator or the two sets of internal stairs that led from the main floor to the bedrooms or down to the workshop and laundry. This huge set of stairs connected the penthouse to the SI floors below, and Steve never had occasion to go down on foot. But if he could get to them now… Surely, someone below could help him. SI was a busy company, someone was always working late. 

Steve pushed up to his knees again and started to rise, but a huge, metal hand, impossibly strong, clamped to the back of his neck, scruffing him like an unruly kitten. Fear flushed his veins, and Steve couldn't help the whimper that slid free.

Iron Monger carried him back towards the centre of the roof and threw Steve helplessly in a lump by the closed elevator. "Where do you think you were going?"

A whining roar cut through the rush from the wind, and Steve snapped his eyes up to the sky. A police helicopter? Maybe someone - Rhodey, JARVIS, anyone - had found Tony and called the police.  _ Go get Tony first, _ Steve begged the stars.  _ He's dying. _

The roar twisted into something more familiar and then Iron Man's heavy boots hit the roof.  _ Iron Man. _ He always seemed to come when Steve needed him. But for the first time, Steve wished it was Tony instead. Even though Iron Man had a better chance of saving him, all Steve wanted was to see Tony's face again, hold his hand, hear him laugh. Steve started rubbing the tape over his mouth against his shoulder again. He needed to tell Iron Man to leave him and go find Tony, rescue him, call the paramedics,  _ something _ . 

Why had Iron Man even come? Steve looked between Iron Man and Stane's suit. They were so similar. Was this some elaborate ploy to bring Iron Man here? Why? Or maybe… was Iron Man helping Stane? 

But Stane looked surprised. He spun on his heel and his mouth fell open, but it was a moment before sound came out. "Well, well, well. I guess after Afghanistan I should have assumed it wouldn't be so easy to kill you."

"Yeah? Well, luckily you won't get the chance to underestimate me again. You have something of mine."

Stane placed his hand flat over the glow in Iron Monger's chest and it whirred and started to click open. "I'm afraid I can't give it back. The reactor is mine now. I'm pioneering the future. Something you refused to do, son."

"I wasn't talking about the reactor." The faceplate flicked open and inside the Iron Man suit was a face Steve recognized. It was Tony.

"Oh my god," Steve whispered against the tape that, thankfully, was starting to lose the fight against his moist breath and the friction. Tony… had it really been Tony in the Iron Man suit all this time? Tony that Steve was painting, Tony who saved him from the muggers. All the times Steve had talked about Iron Man, openly panted all over him… god. 

The press had never said how Tony escaped his kidnapping in Afghanistan and neither had Tony. Now, Steve had an idea how that might have been. And the arc reactor… it didn't just keep him alive, it gave life to Iron Man. That was why Stane needed it. But somehow Tony was alive now, he was  _ alive, _ and he was here.

And Stane was going to kill him.

Steve rubbed his face against his chest again and finally the tape gave way. "Tony! Get out of here!" he yelled.

Tony's eyes cut to his. "You okay, honey? He hurt you?"

Steve's eyes welled with tears. "He's going to kill you."

"Steve." 

"Tony, I'm sorry. I tried to fight." 

Tony's expression melted into sadness. "I know you did."

Stane reached out and backhanded Steve hard enough to make the world spin. He slumped back down on the concrete and took slow, careful breaths until the steel bands around his chest gave way and his pain focused on the stinging in his cheek.

Tony growled and the faceplate snapped down again, amplifying the noise across the whole roof. "Let him go, Obie! I don't want to fight you."

"Well, isn't that sweet." Stane stepped backwards into the Iron Monger suit and it closed around him. "Unfortunately, I  _ need  _ to kill you. If you don't want to fight me, all the better. Come, let me put you down humanely, my boy."

"Give me Steve back." Tony sounded almost desperate now. 

In a fight between Iron Man and Iron Monger, could Iron Man possibly win? If only Tony would just  _ run! _

Iron Monger powered up with a whine that made Steve's ears ache. He flexed his hands, stretched his arms wide, and then Stane laughed. He charged. Iron Man fired his repulsors but it barely slowed Stane down. The two armours collided with a gut-twisting clang.

Steve could barely follow the flashes of red and gold and silver. They both fired their weapons, rising up in the air then coming down again. Occasionally, they flew too far away for Steve to see them clearly, but then they'd come screeching back. He couldn't tell if Tony was trying to draw Stane away from the roof - away from _ him _ \- if Stane was trying to lead Tony somewhere else, or if the fight was just so big it couldn't be contained. 

In the distance, there was a loud explosion, and a moment later, a glowing ball came hurtling towards the roof. Steve scrambled to get behind the protection of the walled-in utility box. He tripped and fell sideways, which scraped up his shoulder but also managed to twist the tape around his wrists just right to tear it. He turned back towards the approaching armour, curled up against the wall. Was that Tony or Stane?

It hit the roof with an almighty crack then exploded into both armours, Tony on his back in the gravel, Stane pinning him down with a hand on his throat. 

"No!" Steve shouted, and both heads swiveled to his. Stane popped up his faceplate and grinned at Steve.

"You know what? This is even better!" Stane shouted. Iron Monger rose, groaning, to its feet, dragging Tony up by the neck with it. "If your omega kills you, your will is null and void. You die intestate and I'm your next of kin. Everything comes to me. What little secrets do you have hidden on those hard drives of yours, hoarding more answers to the universe's great mysteries, huh? I'm sure your bastard of an omega would do everything he could to keep them from me. But I have no need to tame him if he's dead.

"It won't be hard to convince anyone that your street rat went mad and tried to kill you for your money, offing himself in the process. And I'll take Iron Man, the tower, SI, and JARVIS for myself. Who knows, maybe I'll have time to knot the little bitch before I chuck his body over the edge after you."

Tony growled and his arc reactor flickered for a moment, then an almighty blast of repulsor power shot out of the chest and slammed into Stane. Stane stumbled backwards several steps, and Iron Man shot forward, colliding with him. They wrestled violently, horrifying cracks and clangs being whipped away by the wind.

Steve couldn't tell who was winning, who had the upper hand, but he couldn't look away. He felt every hit on Tony's armour inside his own body until he was bruised and aching. Then Tony tumbled backwards, Stane grabbed him by the throat, reached forward and ripped his faceplate off. Tony struggled, but he couldn't seem to get free.

"Obie…" Tony husked out, and Stane flipped his own faceplate up, grinning in triumph. "You know, I would have settled for jail," Tony said. "After Afghanistan, after the board, the lies you spread about me, I would have settled for jail. I would have happily watched you rot in there forever. Even though you tried to kill me, even though I  _ trusted you _ and you tried to kill me, I wouldn't have needed you dead."

Tony took a deep breath and something hardened in his expression.

"...but you shouldn't have touched Steve," he growled.

Steve watched in slow motion as Tony's eyes slid from Stane's face over to Steve. There was a longing there, and a regret that Steve couldn't fathom the depth of.

"No!" Steve launched himself forward when he realized what Tony was going to do, but it was too late. Tony let go of Iron Monger and pointed both hands down, palms flat. He fired.

They were standing over the stairs.

The atrium window exploded in a shower of glass as the repulsors obliterated its last remaining strength and the weight of two, huge metal suits crashed through it. 

Steve stumbled across the roof, skidding on broken glass. "No, no, no, Tony - Tony!" He'd finally figured out where he was meant to be and now it was going to be ripped away from him. He fell to his knees, hard, as he reached the edge of the window frame and, heart crawling up his throat to choke him, peered over the edge. 

All the glass had shattered, and a hundred feet down was a crumpled mess of metal and sparking wires. But the frame supporting the glass hadn't fully broken, and hanging from one of the struts, desperation flashing in his eyes, was Tony.

"Oh my god, Tony!"

"Hi, Steve. How are you?" Tony's grip slipped and he yelped, scrambling to stay wrapped around the thin strip of metal. 

"Tony, Jesus. Let me -" One of the other strips of metal had snapped off and was hanging nearby. Steve grabbed it and hauled it up, arms shaking. He slid it out along the others until it was braced sideways across the two edges of the circle frame and several other bars in the middle. Tony reached out for it and managed to latch on, inching his way closer and closer. Even though he couldn't do anything at all to help move several hundred pounds of metal and alpha.

Tony finally crawled over the edge and flopped on his back. The Iron Man suit popped open with a hiss and he groaned, arms falling out wide. Steve pushed Tony's shirt up with desperate, stumbling fingers and only breathed out when he saw the old arc reactor, whole and unbroken, beating Tony's heart. He folded forward with a sound that was not a sob and covered Tony's chest with his body.

One of Tony's hands came up and landed in his hair. "It's okay. We're okay, Steve, honey. It's okay."

Sirens sounded down the street, and it wasn't long before police and paramedics stormed up onto the roof. Steve let himself be lifted on a stretcher, but whined and struggled when Tony drifted out of view. He didn't have much fight left in him though, and an EMT's firm hand on his chest kept him pinned to the stretcher.

In the back of an ambulance, they checked him over, asking all kinds of questions about who was president and what year it was. Eventually, satisfied that he wasn't concussed, they sat him up, peeled his socks off and examined his feet. It turned out the glass hadn't done more than a few superficial cuts, so once they'd cleaned him up and given him a few bandaids, there wasn't much more they could do there. There were scratches and bruises all over, but nothing serious.

"Stay here," the paramedic said. "I'll be right back. We're going to take you to the hospital for some more tests."

Left alone in the back of the ambulance, Steve dropped his face to his hands and breathed as slowly and deeply as he could manage, willing away the hot tears that threatened the backs of his eyes. A noise from outside brought his attention up and out the big, back doors. About twenty feet away, its rear end to him, sat another ambulance, and seated on the end of the bumper was Tony.

He looked almost small, sitting there with his legs hanging off, hands folded in his lap. He had his shirt on, but all kinds of wires snaked under the hem and through the sleeves, hooked up to boxes strewn around him, some beeping, some flashing. His eyes cut up and met Steve's, and Steve pushed off the stretcher and stepped out of his ambulance. His feet burned, but he didn't care, and he crossed the space between them in only a few hurried steps. 

Tony blanched and half tried to stand but the wires kept him trapped. He sat down again, frowning as Steve approached. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," Steve lied. He reached up and traced the edge of a cut across Tony's brow. 

Tony's frown melted into sadness at Steve's gentle touch. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

"You did. You saved me." 

"You saved me first," Tony said.

"What?"

Tony tapped a finger to his chest. "You kept this. After you saved me the first time - or, god, that was probably like the eighth time, if I'm honest - you kept this."

Steve splayed his fingers over the arc reactor. "I wanted to paint it… I - I was using it as a nightlight."

"I found it," Tony explained. "I crawled up to your room and found it on your bedside table. I had to use Joshua to push myself up to grab it, sorry. He might need a little fixing. I promise... I will… fix him..." Tony's eyes had caught on Steve's face and his words trailed off at whatever he saw there.

Steve was pretty sure he knew what Tony saw there because he was seeing it reflected back at him like a mirror. The moments, the ones he was always waiting for? It turned out they didn't just happen, they had to be made, to be chosen. The glass wall was always going to be there between them if all Steve did was lean against it, yearning silently for the other side. He pressed forward, slotting himself between Tony's knees and braced his hands on Tony's thighs, leaning in.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked, voice nothing more than a soft whisper, his breath puffing against Steve's skin. But he didn't pull away, leaning towards Steve as if drawn by a magnet, instead.

"Breaking something," Steve replied, and he tipped forward the last scant inch and touched their lips together lightly, once. "But mostly, I just wanted you to know I love you." And he kissed him again.

Kissing Tony wasn't like a book or a movie. There wasn't a moment of hesitation before Tony devoured him. There wasn't a swell of music. No heat throbbed low in Steve's core, followed by a rush of slick. They were dirty and tired, and Steve was pretty sure he was shaking, but Tony was warm and soft and human and alive, and there was nothing else Steve wanted more than that.

Tony gasped and one of his hands snapped up to hook the back of Steve's neck, drawing him in again for a deeper kiss. His fingertips erased Stane's touch like the soft rubber Steve worked over his pencil sketches. His fingers stretched up, petting through the short hairs at the back of Steve's head. Steve reached for Tony's face in turn, cupping his jaw and pushing closer, closer, needing more of him but not knowing how to find it. 

Tony's legs parted and then they were chest to chest, Tony bending forward, nearly folding Steve back over the other arm which had circled his waist. His tongue brushed Steve's bottom lip and then  _ there  _ was the heat and  _ there  _ was his body reacting, blood pumping low and deep and tingling, nerves alight that usually spent most of their time dulled. With a soft whine, Steve pressed impossible closer.

A cartoonishly loud cleared throat had Tony breaking away to growl over Steve's shoulder at whoever had dared to interrupt them. Steve tried to turn and look, but he couldn't peel his eyes away from Tony's beautiful face. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, but I need to get both of you back to the hospital, and this ambulance only has room for one. Don't worry. I'll take good care of him."

Tony turned back to Steve, rubbing a soothing hand over his back. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You should do what they say." Steve placed his palm flat over Tony's heart, the edge of the arc reactor digging into his palm, and Tony covered it with both of his.

"No. I'm not leaving you." Tony's hands clenched on Steve's arms, but the grip was weak and he wobbled a little where he sat. 

"You need to at least get back up on the gurney, Mr. Stark," the EMT said with the patience of a long-time kindergarten teacher. 

Tony looked like he was ready to keel over, and even though the last thing Steve wanted was to be separated, he knew if he didn't do something, Tony wasn't going to move away from him. "Come on, Tony, sweetheart, let's go. Up on the gurney."

It became clear that Tony had initially been wheeled in on the stretcher but once left alone, he'd stumbled his way to the bumper and sat down. Steve guided him up and held his hand while the EMT checked the monitors, shooting Steve a grateful look when Tony's eyes slid shut. "I'm going to give him a mild sedative but I think he's going to conk right out anyway," she said quietly. "I really can't let you ride in here, sorry. They're admitting you too."

"I know. It's okay." Steve gave Tony's hand one more squeeze then slipped away. A small noise from Tony almost had him turning back, but another EMT was waiting for Steve, and he let himself be guided away. 

The drive was only a few minutes, but it was a few minutes too long for Steve and he grumped and pouted his way into an exam room. They left him there for a while, and Steve texted Bucky to assure him he was okay. Apparently, it hadn't hit the news yet, but Bucky nearly exploded when Steve explained what happened. Steve promised to call him when he could, setting his phone down just as another doctor finally came in. This one took his blood pressure again, listened to his heart, and talked to Steve about the medications he was taking.

"It says here you've been prescribed suppressants." He looked disapproving. "Those can play havoc with your reproductive system, you know. And you're at higher risk for stroke -"

"I know," Steve snapped. Now wasn't really the time for a lecture, was it? "I have a GP. And I'm - I'm not taking them right now, anyway. I'd just like to get back to my alpha, please."

"Right, of course. I'm just going to draw some blood while we're here. And the nurse is going to get you a few pills and a big bottle of electrolyte drink and I want you to try and drink it all within the hour, okay?"

"Okay."

"Now, Steve, is there any chance you might be pregnant?"

Steve stiffened. "No…"

The doctor looked over his glasses. "You've gone off suppressants but you're sure? When was your last heat?"

Steve fingers tensed on the paper covering of the exam table and it crinkled loudly. "Um. About six weeks ago."

"Hmm." The doctor checked a box on his form. Probably adding a pregnancy test to Steve's bloodwork. He sighed, but didn't say anything, not wanting to start an argument now when all he wanted was to be released to go see Tony.

"How's my alpha? Is he okay?"

"I'll get one of the nurses to check for you, alright? You just hold tight here, and we'll get you that medicine."

"Okay."

The doctor left and Steve almost grabbed his stuff and walked out after him, but he wouldn't be much good to Tony if dehydration and stress made him collapse halfway to his room, so it was probably best to wait for the nurse. He glanced at the clock on the wall. She had ten minutes before Steve was out of there.

After seven had ticked by, there was a knock on the door then a nurse he had seen on the way in stuck her head in. She gave him a paper cup with three pills and a bottle of yellow liquid that didn't look very appealing but smelled pleasantly of fruit. It was bland instead of sugary like he was expecting from a brightly-coloured drink, but it went down easily and as soon as he started drinking, his body begged for more. He drank a third of it in one go and she smiled at him. "Water after, okay? You need to stay hydrated. Everything else looks good. They'll make sure your GP and your alpha get your blood test results, but we're not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary."

"Okay, thank you."

"Normally we'd have to release you to your alpha but I understand he's in care too?"

Steve nodded. "Yes, but I'd like to go see him, please."

"Let me just…" The nurse sat at the computer in the corner of the exam room and typed for a bit. "Oh. You have an emergency contact - a Miss Virginia Potts - but I see your alpha has actually requested you be registered under the Omega Privacy Act, so you can be released and treated without alpha approval."

"Ma'am, not to be rude, but I really don't care  _ how  _ you release me or to who. However, if I don't get to see my alpha in the next five minutes, this is going to shift from a 'how do we release him' situation to a 'how do we restrain him' situation mighty quick."

She blinked at him, lips pursed in disapproval, then nodded. "Alright. Let me just file this for you." She clicked a few times then printed out a sheet which she handed to him. "If the contact information on there is wrong, just stop at the front desk on the way out and change it."

"Okay. Can I go?"

"You can go."

"Thank you." Steve hurried to put his watch back on, gathered his things into his arms and left the room. He wandered aimlessly, peeking in every open room, until he found Happy standing in the hall in front of a closed door, arms crossed. "Hi, Happy."

He startled and spun around. "Heya, boss. How are you feeling?"

"Much better. I'd like to see Tony, though."

"Of course. I think he's sleeping, but he'll be happy to have you in there, I bet." Happy opened the door and patted Steve gently on the shoulder as he stepped through.

Tony was in bed, fast asleep, hooked up to sensors and wires, but looking pink and bright and alive and okay. Curled up in a chair was Colonel Rhodes, also asleep. Steve stood there for a moment, just taking in the way Tony's chest rose and fell and the way his hand twitched on the sheets. Everything crashed down on top of Steve in one big rush and he was suddenly so exhausted that he seriously considered dropping right where he was and sleeping on the floor.

Instead, he lifted the edge of Tony's blankets, on the side that wasn't occupied by wires and monitors, and slid into bed beside him. If Tony was upset, it would be tomorrow-Steve's problem, and besides, he was pretty sure Tony wouldn't be upset. Not if that kiss had felt to him even half of what it had felt to Steve.

Steve nestled in as close as he dared, not wanting to wake Tony up, and closed his eyes. He was out before he took another breath.

**

Steve woke up to the soft murmur of voices. He'd somehow ended up tucked flush against Tony's side, his head on Tony's chest, and Tony's arm wrapped tightly around his back. He could feel Tony talking as it rumbled under his ear, but his limbs were too heavy to move.

"- definitely dead?"

"Yes, Tones. I went to the ME's office myself. I promise you. He's dead."

Tony sighed, his chest rising and falling under Steve's head. "Good."

"Pepper talked to the police, gave them Stane's computer. Now, I think she's doing damage control with the press."

"Alright. They said I'd be out midday today."

"And him?"

Tony's arm tightened around Steve's shoulders. "They said he's okay. Just bruises and scrapes. Dehydrated."

"And…?"

Tony's shoulder moved in a shrug. "I don't know. All I can do is be here, right?"

"Yeah. You've got this."

Steve chose that moment to blink awake. He pushed up onto his elbow and looked down at Tony, who smiled at him like he was the sun.

He brushed Steve's hair back. "Hey, honey. You okay?"

"Mhm." Steve yawned. "What time is it?"

"Just after six. It's okay if you want to go right back to sleep."

"No." Steve shook his head. "I'm awake now."

Steve's eyes jumped down to Tony's chest where the hospital gown had parted. There was a new reactor nestled there - same glow, but with a slightly different shape to the casing.

"Rhodey brought me some replacement parts. I had several mostly finished backups in the workshop."

Steve nodded then frowned. "Wait. If you had backups in the workshop, why did you go up to my room when you were dying?!"

Tony blushed and chewed his lip. "Um. Isn't it romantic if I say I wanted to die surrounded by your scent?"

"What? No! It's idiotic. Oh my god, Tony… You keep three hundred epi-pens and a pharmacy's worth of inhalers in that apartment and you don't have a reactor in every drawer?" Steve shook his head. "What am I going to do with you…"?

Tony was just looking at him, and Steve could see it now, the uncertainty, the hesitation. It'd been there all along, maybe even since before the party and Steve's heat. Maybe he didn't know what Steve wanted to do with him most of all: keep him.

Tony was scared; Steve didn't want to be. 

He bent and kissed Tony gently, once on the lips, then once on the corner where his mouth met his cheek. Tony's arm squeezed, holding him close and he pulled him into a deeper kiss, capturing his mouth and parting his lips to share breath. 

"Welp!" Rhodey said loudly, his chair scraping as he rose to his feet. "I have a date with the coffeemaker downstairs. Don't forget you're hooked up to a heart monitor, buddy. I'm glad you're alright, Steve." 

Tony only drew Steve closer, ignoring Rhodey's exit. He sucked in a sharp breath then rolled, despite his wires and monitors, to pin Steve beneath his body, a long line of steady warmth. His hand shifted up, gently cradling the back of Steve's neck like he was precious, porcelain. 

_ "Alpha," _ tumbled out of Steve's mouth in a desperate mess, his body rolling forward to press against Tony more tightly.

"Shit," Tony swore. "I know I said I didn't go for all that 'yes, alpha, yes sir,' bullshit, but, god, that sounds pretty coming out of your mouth." He grabbed more handfuls of Steve, tugging and pinching his clothes.

_ "Alpha," _ Steve repeated, rolling his hips. Then he stilled, catching Tony's gaze with his own. "I love you."

Tony's look of lustful determination froze then slowly melted into a soft smile, brimming with emotion. His heart monitor beeped wildly. "Okay, that sounds even prettier." He bent and kissed Steve again, softer this time, less urgent. "I love you, too."

"Really?"

"Really. Probably too much for my own good. I'm going to turn into one of those alphas that gets all snippy if people shake your hand or smile at you or something. I can feel it welling up within me."

Steve laughed softly. "No, you won't." He placed his hand over the arc reactor again, finding the shape of it under Tony's hospital gown. "I… I mostly convinced myself, a long time ago, that you could never love me. Not like this, anyway."

"Oh, Steve. I think I loved you from the moment you asked me if I was always that demanding. Though, I'll admit, it took me a month or two to figure it out. I didn't think I had the capacity for love. Turns out…" Tony swallowed thickly and sniffed in a sharp breath. "Anyway, pretty much nothing I wouldn't do for you and I'm on drugs and emotionally compromised now, so this is where you ask for a pony or an island or a bedazzled helicopter. I'm powerless to say no."

"All I want is you better. And home with me."

"Deal." Tony kissed him again, and Steve melted into it. Oxygen was overrated. He wanted to stay glued to Tony's mouth for the rest of forever. His hand curled up over Tony's hip and Tony gasped into the kiss, his heart monitor starting to beep again.

Steve forced himself to break away, settling down at Tony's side, breathing in his comforting scent. He could hear Tony pouting. "The nurses are going to come in, Tony. Behave."

"Yes, sir," Tony hummed, but his hand wandered down to Steve's ass under the covers. 

Eventually, however, Rhodey returned and made them turn on the TV to distract them from feeling each other up. The doctors came in a few hours later and wheeled Tony out for tests. Steve sat in the bed alone, suddenly feeling awkward, but to his relief, Rhodey claimed he had some phone calls to make and slipped out with Tony, leaving Steve to wait for his alpha's return by himself. 

As soon as Tony came back, he flowed right into Steve's arms, stretching out long and touching their noses together. "All cleared. I can leave in an hour, once they process my discharge paperwork."

"And then home?"

"Then home." Tony kissed him. "You're sure you're alright? Last chance to bundle all the medical care together. If there's anything you want tightened, flushed, calibrated, or changed out, now's your chance."

Steve giggled. "I'm good."

An hour later, while Tony was changing into the clothes Rhodey had brought him, there was a knock on the door and then Pepper appeared. "Tony. How are you?"

"Fine. Got the all clear. We're headed home."

"Fraid not." Pepper tossed a newspaper onto the bed then tapped her phone against her hand.

Tony picked it up and unfolded it. "'Tony Stark and omega killed in terrorist attack at SI headquarters,'" he read out. "Wow. There's a lot to unpack there." He frowned. "He has a name - they know he has a name, right?"

"I've been doing the best I can, but obviously there's only so much they'll accept without eyes on you. Both of you. I've scheduled a press conference on your way home. I'm really sorry but -"

Tony held up a hand. "It's okay. I get it. Better to get it over with." He turned to Steve. "You don't have to, though. Happy can take you straight home and you can get into bed with a cup of tea and I'll meet you there."

Steve turned to Pepper. "You said the press wanted to see both of us?"

"Well, yes, but Tony's right. It's okay if you don't want to. They'll ask questions, but we'll just say you'd had a long day, but you're fine. There might be some speculation that you were hurt worse than we'll admit, but nothing we can't handle."

"I'll go." Steve rolled his shoulders out. "I don't have to say anything, do I?"

Pepper shook her head. "Just show up, look beautiful and alive. Tony will do all the talking." Her phone rang and she frowned down at the screen. "I'll let Happy know where to stop." She brought the phone to her ear. "Hello? Ah, Agent Coulson, what a lucky coincidence." She walked out of the room.

"I mean it when I say you don't have to go, Steve. I never want you to feel obligated to do any of this press shit. It's meaningless, really."

"Isn't 'press shit' why you selected me in the first place?"

"Well," Tony tipped his head, conceding. "But I may have realized recently that there are more important things in my life than a good stock price."

Steve knee-walked across the bed to wrap his arms around Tony's waist. Tony hugged his shoulders, dropping his face to his hair. "Well, as luck would have it, we can do both. I want to come with you - I don't want us to be separated right now. You can do your speech and then tell everyone we don't want to be bothered for a long time." Steve tipped his chin up, leaning it on the glass front of the arc reactor to flutter his eyelashes at Tony. "A long, _ long _ time."

Tony brushed Steve's hair back with both hands. "They're going to want to know about Iron Man."

"What are you going to say?"

"I don't know… I - I don't know."

"You want to tell people, don't you?"

"Pepper's not going to like that.  _ No one _ is going to like that. But, yeah. I want people to know that we're protected - my people, my country, my friends. That I'm going to try. I want Iron Man's mission to be transparent, not some mystery vigilante."

"Also… all the fawning omegas will be a nice bonus," Steve said, with a cheeky grin.

"Only one omega I want fawning. And experience has taught me that books and art supplies do a better job of getting that than a bunch of metal and flashing lights."

"Oh, I don't know." Steve could feel himself colouring. "There might have been a time… when -" he coughed "- Iron Man was… well. Special to me…"

Tony grinned. "Really?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

"What if I let it go to my -?" Tony started, but the door opening cut him off.

"Car's ready, boss."

Tony winked at Steve then led him out of the hospital room, his bag hooked over his shoulder, Steve's meagre supplies tucked up inside next to Tony's. Pepper produced a change of clothes for Steve and he swapped out in the car, Tony politely turning to look out the window while Steve wrestled his pants off. He tried to school his hair into some semblance of organization. 

"You look great."

"I look like I was dragged backwards through a hedge by a madman with a giant metal suit."

Tony winced. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare turn this into a guilt thing, Tony. We're both victims." That made Tony side-eye him, but eventually he nodded. "But, uh, you can still help me fix my hair."

"They'll have people before we go in. They'll do a little sprucing. Cover enough bruises that we look sympathetic but not pathetic." Tony leaned over and pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek. "You always look gorgeous, though."

"Flatterer."

Tony wasn't kidding. As soon as they crossed the threshold - hustled into a sort of lobby slash anteroom next to the conference room where the press waited - a group of stylists descended on them. They left as quickly as they'd arrived, leaving Pepper holding a compact and reaching out to pat Tony's cheek with a sponge while he flipped through cue cards. 

This time, a growl really did leak out of Steve's throat at the other alpha touching what was his, and Pepper stilled. "Sorry," Steve murmured, the back of his neck flushing. 

She sent him a sweet smile and shifted her body so she wasn't standing between Tony and Steve. Steve curled into Tony's side while she went back to covering Tony's bruises.

A man who hadn't introduced himself, but had hovered nearby with a bland smile and clever eyes blinked placidly at Tony then nodded towards the cue cards. "It's your alibi."

"Mhm."

"You were on your yacht."

Tony's eyebrow shot up.

"We have port papers that show you in Montauk that night. And sworn statements from fifty of your guests."

Tony flipped over another card. "I feel like we should say it was just me and Steve on the yacht..."

The man in the suit cleared his throat. "That's what happened." He pointed at the cards. "Just read it, word for word."

"Alright." Tony huffed, flipping to the end. "There's nothing about Stane here."

"That's being handled. He's on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record."

Tony's lips twisted into a frown. "But what about the whole cover story that it's a bodyguard? He's my... I mean, is that… That's kind of flimsy, don't you think?"

The man sighed. "This isn't my first rodeo, Mr. Stark. Just stick to the official statement, and soon, this will all be behind you."

A petite beta with a headset on stuck her head through the door. "You've got 90 seconds."

"Agent Coulson? I just wanted to say thank you very much for all of your help."

Agent Coulon's lips quirked into something almost resembling a smile then dropped back to neutral. "That's what we do. You'll be hearing from us."

Pepper laughed lightly. "From the Strategic Homeland…?"

"Just call us S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Right."

"You know, it's actually not that bad," Tony said, flapping the cue cards in his hand. "Even I don't think I'm Iron Man."

Pepper smiled and cut a look to Steve. "You're not Iron Man."

That made Tony pout. "Am so."

She finished powdering his nose and stepped away, tucking her compact in her pocket. "You're not."

"Alright, suit yourself."

Tony spun around and stalked Steve across the room. He backed him up against the wall, one hand braced by his head, and Steve gazed up at him, entranced by the way his eyes were dancing. "You know," Tony purred, "if I  _ were  _ Iron Man, I'd have this omega who knew my true identity. He'd be a wreck, 'cause he'd always be worrying that I was going to die, yet so proud of the man I'd become. He'd be wildly conflicted, which would only make him more crazy about me."

"Is that so?" Steve smirked, shifting closer. "Or maybe he'd duct tape your ass to the couch so you wouldn't get yourself into any more trouble."

"God, what did I ever do without you?" Tony leaned in closer but Pepper grabbed his arm. 

"Don't smudge your makeup. It's time to get out there. Smile!" She hooked Steve's arm into Tony's and shoved them out the door and into the path of a hundred flashing lights. Tony held Steve tightly against his side, waving at everyone with the other hand, curling around Steve so he was nearly burrowed into his side, Tony between him and the cameras. 

Tony made a show of kissing Steve, one hand cupping his cheek to turn him away from the paparazzi just a little, then released him to stand off to the side where Happy waited. Steve tucked up beside Happy and waved and smiled when the cameras turned to him.

Tony tapped the microphone. "This thing on? I know he's gorgeous, but what am I? Chopped liver?"

Everyone turned back to Tony with a laugh, and Steve breathed out a sigh of relief. He started to wobble a little and Happy's hand popped out to spread wide over his upper back, waiting for him to steady before disappearing. Steve wanted to sit, but he understood the importance of being shown to be strong and healthy, so he latched his hands tightly together and forced himself to stay upright.

"As you can see, Steve and I are fine. There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the rooftop…"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," one of the reporters piped up, "but do you honestly expect us to believe that it was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared, despite the fact that you…"

Tony held up a hand. "I know that it's confusing. It's one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations, or insinuate that I'm a superhero."

"I never said you were a superhero."

"Didn't you? Well, good, because that would be outlandish and fantastic. I'm just not the hero type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made, largely public. And a superhero has to be, not just impressive, but, you know… inspiring." 

Pepper, at the back of the room, tapped her hand pointedly, and Tony's gaze dropped back down to the cue cards he was still holding.

"Yeah, okay. Right. The truth is…" Tony's eyes cut from the crowd to meet Steve's; something roared to life in them - something fired up and powerful and hungry. Steve smiled back. Tony cleared his throat. "The truth is… I am Iron Man."


	12. Chapter 12

It took almost an hour to extract Tony from the press. The room had exploded after his announcement, and while he'd handled everything with incomparable poise, even Pepper wasn't able to get him away until he'd answered what felt like a hundred questions. Before he was off stage, Happy landed a hand on Steve's shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Better sneak you out of here while we still can."

Steve had let himself be bundled off to the car where he bounced anxiously, waiting for Tony to join him. 

Finally, Tony slid in and pulled the door shut, then immediately wrapped Steve in his arms and pulled him into a close embrace. "Please," he said, words muffled into Steve's neck, "let me take you on a plane now. Let's go away. Far away. I need just you for a few days."

"Yes, please. I'd like that."

"Okay. Okay, thank god." Tony kept Steve curled up in his lap while he sent several rapid-fire texts and made a few phone calls. They pulled up at the penthouse, and Steve scurried off to his rooms to pack, laden with a suitcase Tony had yanked out of a closet. Not knowing where they were going, and too wound up to think to ask JARVIS - though hearing him greet them when they arrived was a deep relief - Steve just threw a random assortment of clothes in the case along with all his medicines, a few books, and his sketchbook, and wheeled it out to the hall to wait for Tony. If he didn't have the right clothes, Tony would just buy him more wherever they were, he realized, with a giddy rush of self-indulgence. 

Tony came flying out of his room and nearly collided with Steve. "Ready?"

"Yes. Wait, no! I have to say goodbye to Joshua."

Tony pursed his lips. "I'm getting you a dog."

"Shut your mouth." Steve handed Tony the handle of his suitcase and ran around the apartment until he found Joshua in the home theatre, looking for popcorn crumbs under the seats, despite his cracked casing. Steve picked him up and cleaned out his vents then popped a kiss to one of his little lights because no one was looking.

"Beep."

"Okay, bye."

He ran back, slowing down at the end of the hall because the last thing he needed was an asthma attack, and found Tony in the elevator with both of their suitcases, waiting patiently. He'd changed into dark, fitted jeans and a heavy, dark blue, knit sweater zipped up over a red t-shirt. He looked tired, with charcoal smudges under his eyes, but he was smiling at Steve like he was his whole world, and he'd never looked so beautiful.

Steve powered into the elevator and slumped forward against Tony's chest, letting his chin rest against the hard surface of the arc reactor so he could tip his face up. "Run away with me."

"Yes, sir." Tony kissed him on the forehead as the doors slid closed. 

The rush to the airport was hectic. Tony hadn't updated his passport to include Steve, so they had to fill out an extra form at one of the many customer service desks, and Steve had pulled his ID out of his wallet so many times by the time they made it on the plane that his fingers were getting sore. 

Tony had a private plane that was smaller and sleeker than the other planes that were dotted around the airport. He helped Steve up the stairs and inside. Big, plushy chairs lined the edges and the entire back wall was a TV screen. It was like an opulent living room that just happened to be able to fly. 

Tony talked to the captain for a minute, ordered drinks for both of them then sat down heavily in the chair next to Steve. Steve had his face pressed to the window, waiting for take off, but when Tony's warmth pressed up against his side he became torn. He turned towards Tony with a little huff and made to climb into his lap.

Laughing, Tony hooked Steve in his arms and slid across the seat so he was in Steve's, Steve cradled in his arms, facing the window. 

A few minutes later, the plane started trundling across the tarmac and Steve glued himself to the window once more, watching them take off. "Are you going to tell me where we're going, or is it a surprise?"

Tony's arms tightened around his waist, his chin heavy where it rested on Steve's shoulder. "Nah, I'll tell you. I didn't want to be on the plane for ages so we're going up to Canada, northern B.C. to stay at a cabin in the mountains I have up there. It'll be about three hours. Hungry?"

The last couple hours had been such a whirlwind that Steve hadn't had much time to think about it, but when he stopped and considered the question, he realized he was. "Yes, please."

The flight attendant came in with drinks and a menu, and Steve preened a bit when she leaned too close and Tony's arms wrapped tighter and a tiny growl slipped out. The attendant backed right off with a murmured apology, took their orders from a good two feet away and disappeared again. 

Time flew by as they powered their way over the country and eventually over the border. After food and a glass of scotch that Tony probably wasn't supposed to have with all the medication still working its way through his system, he slipped off into sleep, and Steve settled into the seat next to him with his book, letting his alpha doze. 

He worried, at first, that now that things were different for him, that he wouldn't enjoy his book so much, but in actuality, he found himself enjoying it more. He was excited for those feelings and experiences to apply to him and for the first time in his life, they could. 

After three chapters, and with the plane too high in the sky to see more than a sheet of clouds beneath them, Steve tipped sideways until his head was in Tony's lap, and followed him into sleep. 

Steve woke to gentle fingers combing his hair back from his face. He blinked away to find Tony smiling down at him. 

"Thought you might want to see the mountains."

"Yes!" Steve scrambled up and braced both hands on the arm rest, leaning over Tony to press his forehead to the window. Below them sprawled a vast mountain range, each peak topped with white snow. "Holy shit."

Steve stared all the way down the runway, nestled amongst a sea of green. The airport was tiny and a car was parked nearby, waiting for them. The attendants helped get their baggage in the car. While Tony was thanking them and shaking hands, Steve's phone buzzed, and he climbed in the passenger seat while swiping open his notifications. 

_ Saw you on TV,  _ Bucky had written.

_ How'd I do? _

_ Your alpha kind of stole the show. _

Steve snorted a laugh.  _ He's good at that. _

_ Still feeling okay? _

_ Yup. _

_ I wouldn't have minded them deciding to keep you in the hospital for another six or seven hundred years.  _

_ I know, Buck. But I'm okay. Tony's okay too. He's taken me to Canada.  _ Steve blushed even as he typed it.  _ We're going to hide out at his cabin for a few days. _

Bucky replied with seventeen winking emojis.

_ Shut up. _

There was a pause in texts, and Steve's attention was pulled away by Tony climbing into the driver's seat and starting the car. They left the airport and wound their way through the mountain roads, lined with pine trees on both sides. 

Then the phone chimed again, and Steve unlocked it. "Oh my god." It was a picture of Bucky and another alpha, who must have been Sam, because their heads were pressed close together and there was a splash of pink across Bucky's cheeks. 

_ Have a nice honeymoon, Stevie. Sam says hi. _

_!!!!! HI SAM!!! TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIM.  _ Steve added every emoji he could find.

"What are you giggling about?" Tony asked affectionately.

"Buck sent a pic of him and Sam. Looking rather snuggly, too."

"Ah!" Tony smacked a palm against the steering wheel. "Good for them. Remind me to send them a toaster or something. Or a car. Do they need a helicopter?"

Steve burst out laughing. "A toaster is fine. Please don't buy Bucky a helicopter. He's a terrible driver. It'll end up in a lake."

Tony slowed the car as they turned up a drive, and then a beautiful house burst out from between the trees. A wall of glass seemed to hang suspended in the air until they pulled along a little further and Steve realized that dark, wood walls framed it on either side. The whole house was up on a ledge so it could presumably peer over the tops of the trees and out into the mountains. 

Tony wound up the drive and pulled into a garage that opened for him automatically. He took the bags out of the trunk and Steve followed him, wide-eyed, into the house. A short flight of stairs led up to a huge living room with a country-chic decor, layered up with lots of soft blankets and cozy pillows. The windows did indeed face a stunning mountainside, the glint of a lake just visible in the distance. It was gorgeous and remote and blissfully quiet. 

Tony's arms curled around Steve from behind and he leaned back against Tony's chest. "Can't believe I get to do this, now." Tony whispered into his hair. 

"I can't believe we're finally alone together," Steve purred. He turned in Tony's arm and wrapped his arms around his waist. His fingers tucked up under the hem of Tony's shirt to find a little skin. 

Tony hummed then pressed his lips to Steve's, in a sweet, languid kiss. One hand came up to cup Steve's cheek as Tony melted more heat into the kiss and tingles flushed down through Steve's core to settle deep and heavy. Arousal twitched his cock full until it was tight in his jeans.

"Tony," he whimpered. 

"Wanna see the bedroom?" Tony asked, sounding breathless.

"Yes, please."

Tony hooked his arm under Steve's ass and lifted him up, making him yelp with a startled laugh. He wrapped his legs around Tony's waist and clung to his neck as he carried him back down the hall and into a bedroom, kicking his feet a little so Tony would smirk at him and call him a "Brat."

Tony dropped him unceremoniously on a huge bed, and Steve caught sight of a stretch of forest outside the window before Tony was covering him over and kissing him deep and thorough again. Steve sunk into Tony's hold, letting his eyes fall shut, hands dancing up the back of Tony's shirt. Every inch of him vibrated with desire, Tony's warmth and solidity and scent surrounding him completely. But a stray thought sent a jolt of anxiety through Steve's chest and he put a hand flat on Tony's chest and pushed gently.

Tony immediately leaned away, propping himself up on one elbow, hand flat over Steve's belly. 

"I have a thing I have to say," Steve said.

Tony nodded. "Okay. I'm listening."

"I love you. And I really,  _ really,  _ want to be with you, like this, but… I know no one ever believes me because I'm so old, but I really haven't ever been with an alpha. Never. And a few of my doctors have warned me that I might not be able to take a knot. So… I'm scared."

Tony shook his head slowly, back and forth. "Steve, sweetheart, we don't ever have to do that. There's so much we can have fun with that's not knotting. I don't even ever have to be inside you. There are so many ways I can bring you pleasure. If you just want a blowjob right now, I'd be fucking honoured to give you that. And I believe you. Of course I believe you.."

Steve reached up and twisted a lock of Tony's hair between his fingers. "I want to try, though. I really do. I want us to share that, and I think it'll be good. I just wanted to warn you so your expectations aren't too high." He huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.

"You blow my expectations out of the water every day just by being you. Can't believe I'm this lucky that I get to have you like this, that you're willing to be mine."

"I want to be yours."

Tony traced a finger down Steve's chest, then curled his hand around his hip. "I'm going to say this once, because I need to say it, and then after that, I'm just going to trust you, okay?"

Steve nodded.

"I love you. I love you - no qualifiers. I've loved falling in love with you over the past few months and I'm going to keep loving falling even deeper in love with you over the years to come. I don't  _ need  _ anything more. I know it was a misunderstanding, us both thinking the other didn't want anything physical, and I do want to touch you and kiss you and bring you pleasure, but I will still love you without that. I will still love you and cherish you and be completely faithful to you even if these hands never get to go below the belt, okay? So if you don't want this, if this is too scary or too much or too painful, either right now, or for forever, or even after we try, don't ever think for a second that telling me that is going to risk losing me."

Steve's eyes prickled, and he nodded again. "Okay. I promise I want it. I can't promise it'll work, but I want it."

"Then we'll try."

Steve popped the button on his own pants and started pushing them down, wiggling his hips when Tony grabbed the waistband and pulled. He cupped Tony's face and pulled him down into a searing kiss, rolling his body to meet his heat. "I want you. Make love to me?"

"God… yeah…" Tony breathed, kissing along his jaw and down the length of his neck. 

He kept kissing his way down Steve's chest and Steve put a hand on his head to stop him from where he was obviously headed. "I wanted to try  _ this  _ time."

"Oh, honey," Tony replied. "Welcome to the wonderful world of foreplay." And then he swallowed Steve's cock down to the base.

Steve let out an extremely undignified squeak at the wet heat suddenly surrounding him, and his fingers curled, digging into Tony's hair. "Oh my god."

Tony slid back, arching into Steve's touch, then licked his way up Steve's cock, filthy and undignified and setting every inch of Steve on fire. This was nothing like the alphas in his books, who had been firey and full of need and desire, so lustful that they couldn't wait. And the omegas in the books had liked it, being taken and ravished and needed, but in real life, Steve was starting to see how that could have been a little overwhelming at first, a little scary. But Tony seemed to genuinely be getting off at bringing Steve pleasure, and that had a tight spring coiling low in his core, too fast and too strong.

"Tony, Tony. Tony." Steve released the hold on his hair and Tony eased back.

"You okay?"

"It's too good," Steve gasped. "You're too good. I don't want to come just yet."

Tony grinned and licked one more stripe up Steve's cock before shifting lower. He breathed in against the inside of Steve's thigh. "God. You smell like caramel."

Steve whined, rolling his hips. A rush of slick dripped onto the sheets and Tony groaned then pressed closer. He nipped at Steve's hip and licked his way over his skin to tease his cock again. Steve moaned and squirmed; there was another part of him that was  _ so desperate  _ to be touched but he couldn't quite bring himself to ask. But then Tony's fingers skated up the back of his leg, curled around the swell of his ass, then brushed, feather-light, over his hole.

"Oh my god." Steve's breath hitched and his eyes welled up. It was so overwhelming.

"You okay?" Tony breathed against his skin.

"Yes. Please. I'm - more?"

"Okay, honey. It's okay. Keep breathing. Slow down." Tony sat back a little and Steve whined at the loss of contact. "It's okay. Do you want to roll over? Might be more comfortable."

Steve nodded and Tony helped him shift his hips up and around until he was on his stomach, clutching the pillow with both arms. Tony ran his palms up the back of both of Steve's thighs, huge and hot, and trails of tingling anticipation followed them up. He parted Steve's ass then the tips of his thumbs ghosted around Steve's rim and Steve cried out. He'd never needed anything like this, not even in the throes of his heat. His body begged for Tony, begged to complete their bond, be claimed, possessed, completed.

"I can't wait," he whined.

Tony settled heavy against his legs and pressed a soft kiss to the curve of Steve's ass. "Keep breathing, baby. I've got you." Then his tongue laved up and over Steve's hole.

"Oh! For fuck's -  _ huuugh."  _

Tony's tongue was hot and wet and he moaned between Steve's legs, lapping at the slick that was spilling freely now. He dove in without reservation and Steve's cheeks were soon as hot as his aching hole. All the times he'd wondered what his first time would be like, he'd never imagined his alpha doing this for him, lying between his legs and licking him loose and begging. He'd read about throat knotting and he knew an omega could come just from having their cock touched, but using their mouth was something omegas did to please their alphas, not the other way around. 

And yet Tony was showing no signs of impatience. Was he hard? Was he enjoying it? Tony's tongue pressing past Steve's rim pushed him out of his spiralling thoughts and he arched back against him, seeking more or maybe just needing to  _ move.  _

"Fuck, honey, you taste so good," Tony groaned thickly, kissing and sucking his way up to the small of Steve's back. 

"Tony, I need - I need." Steve couldn't articulate what he needed, but he was empty and desperate and rutting against the soft, silken sheets wasn't enough to get him anything other than more riled up.

"You sure?" Tony's weight settled over Steve's back and his hand went to his neck, squeezing gently. He nosed up under Steve's ear, breathing him in and rubbing the glands there to flood the room with more of his needy scent. "I can suck you off, let you ride my fingers, whatever you want, and we can take a break. We have all the time in the world, sweetheart. No rush."

"I'm - maybe…" Steve's head was spinning. But when Tony shifted to pull away, and made space for the thought of  _ not  _ getting knotted to worm its way in, Steve stopped him with a whine. "No, no. I want to try. Please don't stop. I want to feel you. Even if we can't go all the way - fuck me, please?"

"Jesus Christ," Tony choked out. "The things you do to me. Goddamn helpless." He rubbed the back of Steve's neck again and kissed him on the shoulder. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to go real slow and you're going to keep talking to me, right? And you're going to keep breathing. Cause if either of those things starts to go, we are stopping and using your inhaler and having some Gatorade, and -"

Steve barked out a giddy, shattered laugh. "Yes, yes! Okay, I get it. I'll talk, I'll breathe. Now fuck me, alpha,  _ please."  _

_ "Nuh." _ Tony's hand skated back down and a finger pushed into Steve's hole, followed shortly by another. Steve could feel how wet he was, but instead of feeling embarrassed it just wound him up further. He was  _ ready.  _ He'd doubted since puberty that he'd be able to do this, but now that he was here, he knew he could do it. 

"Tony, Tony, Tony."

"Okay, honey. Okay. Okay. Here we go." Tony straightened up to his knees and hooked Steve's hips to draw him up until his back was arched, ass in the air. Steve propped himself up on his elbows and dropped his face down to the mattress. Tony's hands disappeared and then he was folded over Steve's back, one arm around his waist, supporting him, the other tucked under Steve's arm, his big, warm hand right next to his face. Steve turned into Tony's hand, nuzzling into his scent, as Tony pressed his cock to his hole. 

Tony was slow, but his breath was hard and fast against Steve's back, his lips ducking to press a kiss between his shoulderblades. The soft touch was in contrast to the breath-stealing pressure of Tony's cock, and Steve tried to breathe through it, not wanting to gasp and groan and risk Tony stopping. It was so much, but it was so good. Steve felt his body relax, give, accept Tony's girth as he slid in, slowly, one inch at a time. Tony rocked back then pushed in again, spreading Steve's slick up his length.

"Fuck, honey, you feel so goddamn good. You okay?"

"I'm okay. It's good," Steve gasped.

"I love you so much."

"I love you, too." 

Tony pressed again and he sunk deep -  _ so deep  _ \- and then Steve could feel the extra pressure of Tony's pre-knot stretching his rim. It felt like Tony filled up his entire body; everything was him.  _ Tony, Tony, Tony. _

Steve must have said that out loud because Tony murmured, "I've got you," against his back, then started to thrust. He started slowly, rolling his hips in a deep but predictable rhythm that skated the head of his cock over Steve's prostate with every back slide. Any lingering discomfort was washed away by wave after wave of delirious pleasure. It crossed Steve's mind, in a vague sort of way, that sex was supposed to be even better during heat, but he couldn't imagine feeling better than this. He was filled up and made whole, thrumming with deep-set pleasure he'd never felt before, and Tony's hot breath on his neck, his moans and gasps and breathless " _ Steve" _ bloomed satisfied pleasure in Steve's chest. 

_ He _ was making Tony feel that good. Focusing on his alpha's pleasure had never been appealing before, too many times he'd heard he'd have to "lie back and take it for the good of your alpha," but he understood why being knotted was so romanticized in his novels now. He  _ wanted  _ to make Tony feel good; he was chuffed that even his frail and inexperienced self could do that. Tony's pleasure mixed with his own, winding him up in double-time.

Tony's pace started to pick up, and all higher thought evaporated. Tony's arms tightened around Steve, holding him in a safe cocoon, and his mouth went to the back of Steve's neck again. Then he kissed his way around to his ear. "Steve, honey. Steve. Tell me now if you want me to stop, okay? I need to know now." Tony's hips rolled again and he groaned. "I don't want to hurt you."

Steve moved to wind his fingers with Tony's, pulling his wrist over, effectively wrapping Tony around him and pressing his face into Tony's hand. "Don't stop! I want it. I can take it, I know I can."

"Okay, baby." Tony hooked his other arm around and gripped Steve's other hand, then he bent his face to the back of Steve's neck, breathed out hot, and dug his teeth in as his knot stretched Steve's rim impossibly before sliding inside. 

_ "Fuck!"  _ Steve came like a gunshot, his body rippling around Tony as he pulsed over the sheets beneath him, waves of pleasure followed by tingling heat that spread from his core out to his fingertips and toes. 

Tony kept mouthing the back of his neck as he rocked Steve with short, sharp thrusts. And the knot kept growing, pressing deeper and deeper inside him. "Sorry, honey, this is going to hurt a bit, but you're okay."

"What -  _ oh -"  _ The knot settled deeper and there was a searing burn deep inside as Tony's knot finally - officially - took Steve's virginity. But when it faded, it left nothing but a fullness the likes of which Steve had never known he could feel. Everything softed and floated into an easy haze and all he knew for certain was that  _ Tony had him.  _

The waves of pleasure evened out, longer and steadier, and he could still feel Tony's cock throbbing inside him, but somehow his presence didn't feel foreign, didn't feel like someone else. They were one, and he never wanted to be apart again.

Tony tipped gently to the side, catching Steve in his arms to hold him against his chest. They stayed that way long enough that time had no meaning, but when Tony's knot finally released and he slipped free with a wet rush of slick and come, Steve whined. He was sore, but he missed Tony already, missed how close that felt. As the head of Tony's cock slid from Steve's hole, another jolt of electric pleasure slammed into him like a truck and his cock twitched feebly, a second, dry orgasm shuddering through him.

"You're okay, honey. God, you were beautiful, Steve." Tony's voice broke, rubbing gentle strokes up and down Steve's side. "So beautiful. So good for me."

"I did it," Steve tried to say, but his tongue was heavy and it came out sloppy and unformed.

Tony seemed to understand though. He kissed the end of Steve's nose, whose eyes uncrossed enough that he could see Tony's pink cheeks, bright eyes, and the sheen of sweat across his brow. He looked happy; Steve had done that.

"You did it. You were incredible. How do you feel?"

Steve blinked at him, trying - but not really trying that hard - to shake the haze enough to answer the question. "Thirsty," he finally managed, and it must have been the right answer because Tony burst into hearty, beautiful laughter.

"Okay. You wait one second."

Tony disappeared for a long few minutes then came back with a glass of water and a dark chocolate granola bar. He also had a soft, damp cloth which he used to clean Steve's stomach, back, and between his legs. Then he helped Steve sit up enough to gulp down half the water and watched him nibble at the food. The calories and the water cleared Steve's head a little and he looked up at Tony through his eyelashes, suddenly feeling shy. "Can't believe we just did that."

"Can't believe you trust me with that." Tony hooked an arm around his waist and drew him in, kissing up his neck, behind his ear, then scenting him gently. Steve shivered. "I have something for you," Tony whispered against Steve's skin.

Steve's heart skipped a beat. One of those exquisite knotting wraps? He nodded, and Tony slipped out of bed and crouched by his suitcase. He unzipped it and rummaged around for a bit then came back with a delicate strip of silk. But it didn't look like any of the ones Steve recognized from the drawer back at home. This one was handpainted, but it looked a little clumsy, a little home made where the others had looked artisan. 

Tony laid it out flat on the mattress and Steve tipped over on his side to run a delicate finger over the surface. It was the night sky: deep, blue threads of silk dotted with white stars and washed with the greens and blues and pinks of the northern lights. 

"It's gorgeous," Steve breathed.

"It was a gift from my housekeeper when I turned sixteen," Tony explained. "Ana Jarvis. She was married to the butler that JARVIS at the house is named after. They did as much or maybe more raising of me than my parents did. I have a lot of other wraps, all gifts from foreign dignitaries and blah blah -" Tony waved a hand dismissively "- but I've always favoured this one, hoping someday I'd have the honour of giving it to someone who really deserved to wear it." He lifted it up. "May I?"

Steve nodded, a lump in his throat. But when Tony brushed his fingers over Steve's thigh to pull the sash under his hips, Steve almost wanted to change his mind. He loved the beautiful slip of fabric, wanted to feel it against his skin and know that it meant he was Tony's, that Tony was offering his love and devotion and protection with his knot - the literal one he'd just shared, and now this symbolic one as well. But Tony also wasn't supposed to touch Steve again until he took it off and the thought of even five minutes without Tony's hands all over him was almost too much to bear.

Then Steve shifted to let Tony tie the wrap in a knot just below his navel and a pinch of pain throbbed to life deep in his gut. Just enough to remind him that while the spirit might have been very, very willing, the flesh was going to need a break. That's what it was supposed to be for, a break, but this wrap felt like something else. In his books, the omegas always whipped off the wraps as soon as they could, eager for more, but as much as Steve wanted that feeling of being tied together again, he also wanted to wear this evidence of Tony's love, bathe in the honour that was being Tony's.

He smoothed the silk with his palms, fingers dancing over the stars that surrounded him. 

"God, Steve." Tony's voice was rough and hoarse. "You look…"

Not able to handle any of the words Tony might have finished with, Steve hooked the back of his neck and drew him down into a kiss. They kept kissing, slow and easy, until every muscle in Steve's body was protesting too much to do more than fall back on the bed with a whimper. 

It was still light out, so Tony took the big, heavy duvet off the bed and wrapped Steve in it, assuring him that the next nearest house was so far away that no would be able to see, even with binoculars, and carried him out to the back deck. A quietly burbling hot tub drew Steve's attention and he made a mental note to spend most of the next day in it, but for now, he just wanted more Tony. 

Tony sat him down on a big, cushy lounge chair then disappeared back in the house. He returned with cheese and fruit that someone must have cut up and left in the fridge for them, and two water bottles. Steve lifted a corner of the duvet to allow Tony to crawl in behind him, a leg on either side of Steve's hips, and Steve leaned back against his chest, Tony's arms around his waist and the blanket wrapped completely around him. 

Tony took a cube of cheese from the tray and placed it on Steve's tongue. Steve chewed the strong, rich cheese with a hum of pleasure. He turned a little so he was sideways on the chair, his cheek resting against Tony's chest. He ran a finger around the edge of the arc reactor. 

"If I'd asked to leave," he said, "back before the gala, you would have let me go, wouldn't you?"

Tony tensed under him. "Yeah. I would have."

"And you wouldn't have let me just die on the street, right? You would have paid alimony or something."

"What? Of course. I mean, you already had close to two million dollars to your name, but I would have given you whatever you needed to be safe." Tony traced a finger down Steve's chest. "Would you have left, if you'd known that?"

Steve paused, turning the question over in his mind. "Yeah… yeah I think I would have. Back then."

"When did it change?"

"I think - maybe after my heat. Actually, before that, I guess. I don't know. At some point I became less afraid of living my life tied to you and more afraid to live the rest of my life not being wanted by you.  _ That  _ part didn't really change until I knew you did want me."

Tony's hand curled around Steve's cheek, cupping his jaw gently. "I want you. God, so much it hurts."

"Well, I know that now." Steve wiggled his hips. "You made that abundantly clear."

Tony growled, low and rough and smushed his face into Steve's hair, breathing in deeply. 

"So… If… if you wanted me for that long, why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me you wanted this?"

Tony traced the curve of Steve's bottom lip. "You seemed scared of me, right from the start. You told me during your heat that you didn't want an alpha like that and I promised you I'd never touch you. I never wanted to make you feel like it was something you  _ had  _ to do. And after you told me how much of your freedom I'd inadvertently robbed from you, it felt like there was no way to say it that wouldn't feel like an obligation. I don't want you to ever feel like your freedom or your safety is contingent on making me happy. It isn't. At least not in any way I'm able to prevent." 

"I appreciate that. I really do. I thought you didn't think of me like that, though." Steve laughed. "At first because you showed no interest at all in me from an… uh…  _ alpha perspective,  _ and then because I all but threw myself at you more than once and you gently rebuffed me each time."

"I didn't want you in - in -" Tony spluttered "-  _ apology  _ or something. Or as a thank you. I wanted you because you wanted to be with me, which most of the time you very clearly didn't. There was a lot I did wrong when you first showed up and I'm sorry about that, but making you think I didn't want you like that was a mistake too, I guess. Where do you draw the line between giving you your space and making a reasonable move?" Tony looked genuinely bewildered.

Steve couldn't help but laugh at an alpha unsure of how to tell his  _ bonded omega  _ he had feelings for him. Not that he hadn't spent months in the same position. "I don't know. Maybe it always had to be me who made the first move. It worked out anyway, didn't it?"

"It did."

Steve traced the edge of the arc reactor. "That was you in the alley. With the two alphas who attacked me. I can't believe you were Iron Man all this time. That hasn't really sunk in yet, has it?"

Tony smiled. "Yeah, that was me in the alley. Nearly tore their dicks off for daring to touch you, but I didn't want to give myself away. And thankfully the police came right after you left cause if I'd been left alone with them…"

Steve shuddered at the growling possession in Tony's voice. He didn't want to like it, but he did, like dark, bitter chocolate, buttery and rich, but sinful too. "Thank you."

Tony merely kissed him on the forehead in reply.

After a long, quiet moment, Steve burrowed deeper into their nest with a soft sigh. "I'm so glad I didn't leave."

"Me too," Tony husked out.

They fell into silence, listening to the rustle of the trees and the calls of the birds. It was warm in Steve's little cocoon and Tony's fingers never stopped their gentle explorations, carefully avoiding the knotting wrap but touching Steve everywhere else. 

"Hey, Tony?" Steve asked, when his mind couldn't quite seem to rest completely.

"Yeah?"

"What about Iron Man?"

"What about Iron Man?"

"What's your plan?"

"Good lord, Steve. If you think I have a plan for anything ever, then you don't know me as well as I thought you did."

Steve snorted out a laugh. "I just meant… with Stane stopped, and once the black market weapons are all destroyed, are you going to keep putting the armour on? Especially now that everyone knows it's you?"

Tony was quiet for a long time. "Yeah… yeah I think so. It doesn't feel done. It wasn't just about the weapons, I think there are - I think there are things… SHIELD wants to talk to me. I want to keep putting it on, yeah. Is that okay with you?"

Steve nodded against Tony's chest. "It's a bit scary, but it's good, too. We'll just have to talk, you know, about telling me where you are and stuff like that. It's the not knowing I can't do."

"Okay. Okay, we'll get things set up back home. Tracking and JARVIS and suit updates or whatever you need."

"Good."

They stayed outside until the sun dipped below the tree line and it was too cold, Tony telling Steve stories of everything he'd done as Iron Man over the last few months. Everything started to click together as Tony talked - how he'd seemed drunk and disoriented, which was actually from the repulsor boots malfunctioning and crashing him into a wall - the late nights "working" the bruises, the secrecy, the lying. Everything was either to hide the arc reactor or hide Iron Man. And it still stung, a little, that Tony had never told Steve, never trusted him to know, but, well, they'd ended up here after all, and here felt like exactly where they were supposed to end up.

When Steve started to shiver, they made their way back into the house. Keeping the duvet wrapped around him like an enormous, billowy cape, Steve shuffled into his room and dug around in his bag until he found a very particular sock. Inside the sock was a little, velvet box. He shuffled back out to the living room where Tony was sprawled on the couch with the TV remote, and he tugged the remote out of Tony's hands before he could pick something. He straddled Tony's hips, the duvet scrunching up awkwardly around him, and Tony half sat up to brush his fingers back through Steve's hair with a soft smile.

"How you feeling?"

"Wonderful. Or I was. But now I'm kind of nervous."

"What are you nervous about, honey?" Tony sat all the way up, keeping Steve in his lap with two arms wrapped around the fluffy marshmallow that was his cocoon. "You know the whole wrap thing…" Tony blushed a little. "It's just a silly tradition. You can take it off anytime and I won't - I mean not until you want me to. Even if that's never again. But I'm not -"

Steve quieted him with a finger against Tony's lips and grinned. "You're adorable. No, that's not why I'm nervous.  _ That  _ was amazing and I want to do that again, very soon. When I take this off, I expect you to _ ravish me," _ Steve finished against Tony's lips, words a bare breath, and he felt Tony shudder from head to foot. "No, that's not what I'm nervous about." He sat back again, all his weight on Tony's thighs.

"Then what -?"

"This." Steve parted the blanket and held up the little box. "I designed it," he admitted. "JARVIS helped me order it from somewhere that can turn art into jewelry. I got it a little while ago. But you never talked about bonding rings, so I thought maybe it was a bad idea and I shouldn't give it to you. But if I'm entirely honest, I'd really like you to wear something, if you can, if you're willing. I want everyone to know you're mine. If you don't like this one, we'll pick something else. I just -"

Tony took the box and pried the lid open. 

It was a thick, titanium band, squared off, but not sharp enough to look aggressive. On the surface were two vertical lines and two indentations, with a series of horizontal lines engraved between them, cross-crossing in a pattern like the sketches Steve did of the New York skyline. One of the indentations had a tiny, delicate, deep red stone and the other had a bright blue stone. Two-point perspective, one for Tony, one for Steve.

Tony tugged it out and held it up to the light. He traced the lines with one delicate fingertip. "It's beautiful." His voice cracked and broke. "Thank you."

"You don't have to wear it."

"Of course I want to wear it. It's perfect." He pressed a firm kiss to Steve's lips. Then smiled cheekily. "I'm not sure it's enough, though. I was thinking maybe a shirt that says -" he drew his hand across his chest "- property of Steve "Risky" Rogers. Or maybe a band that follows me around and sings songs about you and how great you are and how in love with you I am."

Steve took the ring from Tony and, laughing, slid it onto his finger. It gleamed there, a perfect fit, and something that had still been a bit uncertain settled in Steve's chest. 

"Maybe skywriting," Tony went on, his eyes fixed solidly on the ring, shining with dampness.

"I love you," Steve said.

"I love you, too." Tony spun the ring once around his finger then grabbed both of Steve's hands in his. "I tried to order you one, maybe a hundred times. At first, because it seemed like a good idea, show you were taken, give the press something to photograph. But then nothing seemed right. And the more and more I fell for you, the more I couldn't choose. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I don't know that I would have wanted to wear it, anyway. Might have just reminded me of what I couldn't have. But now? You'd better get me something, buster. Even if it's just a twist tie wrapped in a circle. I want everyone to know I belong to you, too."

"As soon as we get back."

"Keep me forever," Steve whispered, sinking closer.

"Okay," Tony breathed. And Steve was finding he hated that word a lot less now.

Steve pressed forward until he found Tony's lips then guided him down flat on the couch again. He could feel Tony's body coming to life under him and his own responded with a low throb and rush of slick. He didn't feel sore anymore. He didn't feel anything but  _ Tony, Tony, Tony,  _ and he wanted more of him, every inch of him. He'd never get sick of feeling so connected to him that they couldn't be pulled apart.

Steve leaned back and let the blanket fall from his shoulders then brought his fingers to the knot just below his belly button. Tony pushed up on his elbows to watch as Steve tugged the end free then untwisted the point of the wrap and let the soft silk slide from his hips to pool over his thighs and Tony's stomach. Tony ran both hands up Steve's legs, under the gathered fabric until his thumbs rested on Steve's hips, then he drew him back down into a fevered kiss.

Steve thought about all the ways he'd drawn Tony, the times he'd meant to, and the times he'd thought he was drawing Iron Man, or one of the heroes from his stories, instead. But they were all Tony. He just needed another point on the horizon to see it.

And Tony had needed another point to see him, too.

They were never going to agree on everything, perhaps they were even going to disagree on most things, but Steve knew now that all he had to do was peek around the corner to see things from Tony's perspective. Being bonded to Tony Stark - and Iron Man - was going to be a wild ride, but he knew how to lean into the corners now, and most importantly of all, he knew he was loved. Heart-stopping, wind-swept, moment-breaking, romantic love.

They were going to be okay.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys, that's it! This is my longest fic, _ever,_ which blows my mind. I can't begin to thank sabre enough for letting me play with her world, riff off her story, and outright steal when I couldn't figure out what to say myself. Thank you, thank you!
> 
> Big love to allcap, without whom I'd probably still be stuck at 30k. And to the PotS discord server who kept my motivation VERY HIGH!!
> 
> All my kisses to ashes0909 for betaing every word of this beast and hearing me whine about it every day for like six months.
> 
> And HUUUUUGE love to all you lovely people. I can't reply to comments anymore, but I read each one and I treasure them very deeply so THANK YOU!!!! Your amazing feedback has made this so much fun for me and I love you for it.
> 
> It's much easier to chat to me on tumblr, so feel free to send me an ask over there if you want a reply! (festiveferret.tumblr.com).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and for those of you stuck at home or marching in the streets, working double time or not working at all, worried about family or just worried in general, I hope this provided a little safe place to indulge for a while. Take care, stay safe, everyone, and I'll see you next time!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wrapped Up In You (The Knotting Wrap Fic No One Asked For)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497557) by [indiejustice5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiejustice5/pseuds/indiejustice5)




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